Night of the Hunter
by I Caught Myself
Summary: After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Credit goes to the wonderful CarEKaos for moaning at me to finish this chapter and upload it.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter One**

_Let them think I am dead._ The man thought with a twisted smile on his face as he hauled himself over the top of the volcano crater, collapsing onto the slope as he panted heavily. His plans had been ruined, again. They had been ruined by the man who he had sworn his enemy a long time ago. A man he enjoyed to toy with. A man who had shown more resolve than most. A man who had shown more strength than anyone else that the tyrant had met. It was for those reasons that the man admired Chris Redfield.

_Let him think that he has won._

Albert Wesker breathed in the toxic volcanic atmosphere and he laughed.

xXx

When Chris Redfield returned home from Africa, the first thing he wanted to do was take a nice, hot shower and then have a good night's sleep without having to worry about being woken up and chased by genetically mutated people.

He was still shocked by the fact that he had been granted leave. According to the BSAA, now that Wesker was dead the threat was neutralised and it meant that Chris could have some much needed and well-earned time away.

He was in even more need of a break when Jill had decided that she wanted some time away from Chris – hadn't they been apart for enough time? He understood that the BSAA were suspicious of her after Wesker's large influence with the controller, but he was sure that she wouldn't... he was sure that she wouldn't have left him by her own accord. He was sure the BSAA wanted to split them up, to try and give Chris a normal life.

xXx

_"Chris, I..."_

_ "Jill, can't you see how great this is going to be?" Chris asked, grabbing her by the tops of her arms. He was excited now that Wesker was dead – he was allowed to be, because it meant that he would finally be able to walk down the street without checking over his shoulder. "We can... we can do anything we want to! I can leave the BSAA and we could move away together! We can start again!"_

_ And then he realised that Jill wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the sparse ground beneath their feet, at the small African airport._

_ "Jill?" Chris asked. "Is something wrong? Did Wesker hurt you?"_

_ "I can't..." Jill looked up and their eyes met. "You have to understand me, Chris. The BSAA want to take me into custody. They want to question me to make sure I haven't gone rogue and joined Wesker's side, Chris. After that I want to make a fresh start. I want to forget any of this ever happened. I want a new life."_

_ "But... I can be a part of that too, right?" Chris asked._

_ Jill placed a hand on his cheek and he noticed the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Chris. I want to do this alone. I'm so sorry..."_

_ "Jill..."_

_ "Stop it." She insisted, wiping at her eyes with her other hand. "Just stop it, okay? You look like a kicked puppy already and I can't stand to upset you even more!" She glanced over to wear a hum-vee was parked and she looked at him longingly. "I have to go now."_

_ "You mean... you mean this is goodbye?" Chris asked. "Right now is the end?"_

_ Jill nodded grimly. "You're never going to see me again, Chris."_

_ "No... no, I won't let you do this!" Chris growled. "I only just got you back..."_

_ "I'm sorry, Chris." Jill turned away, staring down at the dusty ground as she walked towards the waiting vehicle._

_ Chris ran after her and grabbed her by the arm._

_ "Chris, I already said –" Jill was cut off by Chris pressing his lips to hers, pulling her into the last kiss they would ever share. He was frantic and passionate, putting all of his emotion into that one moment, trying to get the woman he loved to stay. Jill's hands were on his shoulder as she eased him away gently, resting her forehead against his broad chest._

_ "I love you." Chris whispered. "I will find you again."_

_ "No you won't." She whispered back and then turned away, walking over to where the hum-vee was parked. She climbed into the back of the armoured vehicle and gave Chris a small wave just before the door was closed._

xXx

It seemed that going to normal life wasn't as easy as Chris had assumed.

It was late morning when he had woken up to the sound of someone knocking on the door, and it had been in a cold sweat with dark dreams of the African wilderness, Sheva falling prey to a tyrant, the volcano and Wesker himself.

Chris dragged himself out of bed and out opened the door.

"Claire."

Chris's sister held up a stack of various letters and parcels. "Don't you collect your post anymore, Chris? I found all of this downstairs." She pushed past Chris, into the flat and set the mail down on the coffee table.

"Sorry..." Chris mumbled, rubbing his face. "I only got back from Africa and a million debriefings yesterday. I was going to call you when I got in but it was pretty late. Have you been in my flat?"

"I'm in your flat right now." Claire's lips twitched into a smile.

"No... it feels different in here." Chris scowled, picking up the first letter from the stack of mail. "It feels like someone's been in here and they've moved stuff... it feels like someone's been going through my stuff."

Claire sat down on the sofa and folded her arms, sighing. "You have been away for a while. Maybe you're just... I don't know... paranoid or something. The BSAA called me this morning and told me that you were suffering from Post Traumatic Stress or something and they said that I should keep an eye on you."

"Did they say anything about Jill?" Chris asked as he opened the letter.

"Not really. They just said that she had been taken for questioning."

"Well she's never coming back." Chris frowned. He interrupted Claire, just as she was about to say something – probably about Jill. "Claire, what the hell is this shit?"

"Bills. Back here in the real world you have to pay them, Chris. Or junk mail – about half of it is probably junk mail. Most likely life insurance, double glazing, inheritance from dead relatives that don't even exist..." Claire shrugged. "So how was Africa? Besides the usual life-threatening zombie apocalypse thing..."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh... okay then." Claire fidgeted on the sofa, wanting to break the awkward silence but not sure how. "The BSAA said you need to talk about –"

"Claire, I don't give a fuck what the BSAA said!" Chris yelled, throwing down the next letter he had picked up. "Africa was different, okay? I saw a lot of good people get hurt... and I saw a lot of good people die. It was just... you can't understand what it was like. You weren't there."

"Then make me understand." Claire insisted, standing up. "You're my brother, Chris. I don't want you to go through this alone. If you can't tell me about Africa, tell me why Jill isn't 'coming back'. Was that you being overdramatic, or is it true?"

Chris walked over to the door and opened it, holding it open. "I have things to do today. I'm sorry, Claire, but... could you leave?"

"Are you kicking me out?" Claire blinked.

"No, I'm asking you to leave."

"I don't see much of a difference."

"Claire just... just go, please." Chris sighed. "I need some time alone... I just need some time to think. Can you... I'll call you later tonight, okay? Maybe we could see each other later in the week...? We could go out for dinner or something."

Claire stood up and briskly walked over to the door, shooting a glare at her brother. "Make sure you do call tonight, Chris. You have to keep talking to people – even if it is just about the weather. You have to make sure you don't shut yourself away from the world. The dark starts getting to you when you're alone."

xXx

Wesker held a hand out, palm up to the sky.

It was raining.

He hadn't seen rain since before he had gone to Africa. He had missed the New York weather and its unpredictable precipitation. He had missed the pollution and he had missed the tall concrete and glass buildings.

He didn't belong here anymore.

People who walked past him in the street didn't realise how close the end of the world had been a few weeks ago. They didn't realise that there was a God walking amongst them, a God who had wielded the power to destroy them all.

A God who had been stopped by a mere mortal.

A mortal who didn't know what was coming.

xXx

Everyone was avoiding him.

Chris could've sworn that people were moving away from him as he walked down the bustling city street with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He thought he saw someone's eyes dart away when he looked up at them and he wondered what it was about him that made people's gazes linger. Maybe it was because he looked tired – he was more tired than he had ever been in his life - and he was sporting a large amount of stubble. He supposed that he looked sort of like someone who had been sleeping rough, or an alcoholic.

Chris licked his lips, thinking about how much he needed a drink and something to eat.

There was a small café a little way down the road, which Chris was sure Claire had recommended to him once. Chris was about to go in to try and get something to eat, when he remembered that he had left his wallet back at his apartment. He hadn't come out expecting to buy anything – he just wanted to get out of the house and have a walk.

xXx

The clothes he had stolen didn't fit well, unlike the perfectly tailored suits he used to own before Africa, back when he had cared about material possessions.

Wesker kicked the unconscious policeman laying in the alleyway as he zipped up the jacket with the NYPD logo stitched onto the arm and then holstered the gun. The man was a brunette and had roughly the same build as the blonde man and he reminded Wesker of Chris Redfield which was the main reason why Wesker had been drawn to him to start with – he had thought it was Chris and he was out for blood. He wanted the brunette to know how he had suffered. He wanted him to lose everything.

He dashed out of the alleyway and tried to blend into the crowd, keeping his red eyes downcast. They were the only feature which would make him identifiable as something else and not a human. He needed to find a pair of sunglasses, but unfortunately there were not many people who wore sunglasses at night. He supposed that he would be able to break into a shop when the streets weren't as busy, but for now he would just have to avoid making direct eye contact with anyone.

Someone knocked into him and the man mumbled a quiet apology before continuing in the opposite direction. Wesker watched him go, and suddenly a sense of recognition hit him. The brown hair. The stubble. The same walk as the man hurried away, pulling his collar up to shelter his face from the cold wind.

_I'm coming to get you, Chris._

xXx

It was starting to get dark when Chris arrived back at his flat. There was a group of teenagers gathered in the lobby, all holding various bottles of alcohol. Chris hurried past them to the elevator and pressed the call button – he didn't want to walk up the stairs because he was so tired – but waiting for the elevator didn't seem like a good idea either. The youths kept glancing at him and then back at each other, whispering to each other.

It made Chris nervous.

He didn't like large groups of people – Africa had all started with large groups of people gathered around. After that it had gone severely downhill.

_Come on, lift. Come on._ Chris could see his hands starting to shake as flashes of Africa started to come back to him. He wanted to be back in the safety of his apartment where he could phone Claire and try to talk her – he didn't think he would be able to, but it would be reassuring to hear the voice of someone that he knew.

Jill would've been better – she would've known what he had been through.

He stepped through the elevator doors and leant back against the wall as the door closed, closing his eyes and trying to regulate his breathing. His mind wandered back to when he had been walking around the city and the man he had walked into, the man who had been staring down at the pavement lost in his own thoughts. The blonde man who hadn't even said anything to him.

Chris shuddered, thinking of the fact that the man who had walked into was blonde. He never wanted to see _anyone_ blonde again for a long time – especially not a blonde man.

xXx

The group of teenagers fell silent when the blonde man walked into the lobby. He avoided their gaze and went straight to the elevator, pressing the call button.

"Hey man, you wanna give us some money?" One of the bolder teenagers asked.

"No."

"Oi. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Did a man come in here?" Wesker asked, keeping his back turned towards the group. "Tall, brown hair, unshaven..."

"Yeah, he came in here a few minutes ago. He kept look at us like we were going to mug him or something while he was waiting for the lift." The teenager said, with a murmur of agreement from his friends.

"Do you know what floor he went to?"

"Erm... fifth I think."

Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose. _Think. He thinks. Why can't anyone in this place be more precise?_

"So, how about you give us some cash as a reward?"

"No."

"Oh, come on."

Wesker stepped forwards into the elevator, ignoring the teenagers who were now yelling at him for ignoring them. He turned around and smirked, pulling a gun out of his holster and aiming it just as the doors closed. He pulled the trigger.

**A/N:** **Any comments or feedback are appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all of the kind feedback!**

**Wesker's 'opinion' on what is on the TV is not my own opinion, I am just trying to represent his character as best as I can.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil, but I do own Penny the waitress.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Two**

Wesker walked up to the door that the woman in Room 52 had directed him towards. It seems that wearing a police uniform was working to his advantage – people would tell him the information he wanted without asking awkward questions. They just assumed that he was looking for someone to question about a recent crime.

He knocked on the door to the apartment and waited for Chris to answer the door.

There was no answer.

Wesker stepped back and kicked the door in, walking into the apartment. All of the lights were off and there were no signs of life anywhere. The apartment was silent.

xXx

There had been a gunshot.

Chris was certain of it. He was walking down the stairwell of the apartment, not wanting to take the elevator again – he hadn't felt safe in the enclosed space, and there was always the option of running on the stairs.

The only reason he had gone back to his apartment was so that he could get his wallet and buy something to eat – there was no food in the apartment and he didn't feel like going to the supermarket, so he decided that a small meal and a decent beer would be good enough that night. He would go shopping tomorrow, and he would try to convince Claire to go with him.

He wished he still had his gun with him, but the BSAA had taken it from him when they had arrived back in America. They had said that he wouldn't need it anymore.

It seemed as though the BSAA had no idea what some areas of New York were like.

Chris ran through the stairwell door and over to where the group of teenagers from earlier were, standing over one of them – there was a large pool of blood on the floor and staining the boy's t-shirt. Someone was making an urgent 911 call whilst the others used all of the medical knowledge they had to try and stop the bleeding. Chris pushed his way past them and knelt beside the boy.

"What happened?" _Weak pulse. He isn't going to last very long._

"A policeman came in here." One of the teenagers explained, watching as Chris checked his friend's pupils to see if they were dilated and then pressed a hand against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding until the ambulance arrived. "He asked a couple of questions and then shot him for no reason. We were just kidding around – we didn't really want him to give us any money."

"Why was he here?"

The teenager thought back to when the man had come into the building. "He said that... he was looking for you! He asked us if we knew what floor you were going to."

_Shit. _Chris froze. "What did he look like?"

"He was tall, blonde... had _really_ weird eyes..."

"I..." Chris stood up and took a couple of steps away. "I have to go... I... keep the pressure on the wound until the ambulance arrives... I..." He ran out of the lobby, not caring that his hands were covered in blood from the boy he had been trying to save.

xXx

_"Claire, it's Chris."_

"Oh, hi Chris." Claire switched the phone to her left hand and picked up the TV controller. She turned down the volume so that she could hear what her brother was saying. "Why can I hear the traffic? Where are you phoning me from?"

_"A payphone on the street somewhere... Claire, I –"_

"Why aren't you at home?"

_"It's not safe for me to go home... he's back, Claire. I don't know how but he survived. You have to look after yourself Claire. Make sure he can't find you."_

"Chris, what the hell are you talking about? Who's back?"

_"Wesker."_

"Wesker is dead." Claire said. "Chris, you're just paranoid. Maybe you should talk to the BSAA. They might be able to get someone to help you. You can move out of the city, get another job..."

_"Claire, he's back. I know he is."_ Chris insisted. _"Some kids were in the lobby of the apartment block and one of them was shot. They said that it was a blonde man dressed as a policeman and he had weird eyes... he was looking for me, Claire. He's going to find me because he wants revenge."_

"Where are you?"

_"I have to go. Stay safe."_

"No, Chris don't –" Claire sighed at the tone that suggested Chris had hung up the phone. She replaced the phone in its holder and turned the TV up again. Maybe her brother needed to fall apart before he started to fix his life again.

xXx

Chris hurried away from the payphone, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He wondered if he even should've phoned Claire – if Wesker was alive it was likely that he had been keeping tabs on everyone he wanted revenge on – he probably knew everything about Chris's movements ever since he had come back from Africa.

He should've known that Wesker hadn't died in the volcano.

Chris had experienced paranoia before, but it had never been anything like this. Instead of feeling as though everyone was avoiding him he felt like everyone was watching him, waiting for Wesker to find him.

He dashed into a diner and sat down at a table as near to the kitchen as he could – if Wesker was alive and following him, he could always use the backdoor as an escape route. Chris scanned the diner, watching people drop their gaze from him. Why did he attract so much attention? So what if his appearance was shabby due to his old, worn jacket and the stubble on his chin. There were people who looked worse, like the fat, greasy, hairy man in the corner who Chris would've said was a stereotypical American truck driver.

"Hi! I'm Penny and I will be your waitress tonight!"

"Oh... erm... hello."Chris was startled by the waitress' sudden appearance. _Great. Today I get stuck with the perky one._ Usually, he ended up stuck with a middle aged waitress who looked as though she had never smiled once in her life.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"A cold beer, please."

"Are you ready to order any food?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet." Chris growled. Did this woman really expect to come over here almost straight after he had sat down and take his order?

"Okay! I'll be back over in a few minutes with your drink." Penny grinned and scribbled down the order. "If you have any problems, just tell me or one of the other members of staff." She walked away, heading towards the kitchen.

xXx

Wesker flicked the lights on and walked into Chris's kitchen. He went straight to the fridge and opened the door. The fridge was empty and Wesker kicked the door closed, sighing. It seemed as though he wasn't going to get anything to eat.

He wandered over to the worn leather sofa and threw himself down on it. He found the TV remote under one of the cushions and flicked the on button.

"News."

Flick.

"Sports."

Flick.

"American Idol."

Double flick.

"Sports."

Flick.

"Stock markets."

Flick.

"News."

Flick.

Wesker raised an eyebrow. "Babe channel? My, my Chris... what are you subscribed to?" He said as though the other man was in the apartment with him.

Flick.

"Jerry Springer. Ugh."

Flick.

"Shopping channel."

Flick.

"Christian TV. Enough said."

Flick.

"Geography channel..." Wesker caught sight of a volcanic eruption on the TV, with a map of Africa in the bottom left corner. He scoffed and changed the channel again.

xXx

"Here's your beer!" Penny chorused as she bounded over to Chris, carrying a tray of drinks. She took one of the bottles and a glass off the tray and placed it on the table in front of him. "I'll be back in a few to take your order!"

"Wonderful. I can't wait." Chris said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He watched as the waitress walked away, wondering if he could request a new waiter or waitress without being kicked out of the diner. He poured his beer out and took a sip of it. It was so long since he had drunk a cold beer – it had been so long since he had been given any time to relax.

He wondered what the others were doing at that moment in time.

Jill was probably locked up in a cell at the BSAA headquarters, being interrogated about her involvement in the Uroboros Project.

Sheva was probably trying to rebuild the destroyed areas of Africa and repair all that had been lost – the places, the people... she was probably launching a massive BSAA funded clean-up operation with Josh by her side – both of them felt wronged by what had been done to their home, and both of them wanted to remember their fallen brothers.

None of them were worrying about whether Wesker was dead or alive. Jill didn't have to worry, seeing as she was going to be given a new identity – a new life – away from this mess. Sheva was certain that Wesker had died in the volcano, as she had told Chris plenty of times before he had left Africa.

Chris was disturbed from his thoughts by Penny's sudden reappearance.

"So what can I get you?" She asked, whipping out a small notepad and clicking her pen.

"I haven't looked at the menu yet." Chris replied. Why couldn't she just come over whenever he called her? Why did she have to be so... so...

"Oh, okay." Penny said, her grin faltering slightly. "Well, erm, I'll just... I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order, okay?"

Chris nodded and picked up the menu as the waitress walked away, her grin now replaced by a slightly down expression. He felt bad as he scanned through the cheap and brightly coloured menu, trying to pick out something to eat – the waitress had only been doing her job. Everyone else in the diner was happy and smiley and she had got stuck with him – probably the most depressed person in there – and the only one on his own.

When Penny approached him again he made an effort to smile.

xXx

Wesker switched off the TV and threw the remote down onto the sofa. TV had never had any appeal to him anyway, but he had been bored and it had been something to do. He got up off the sofa and walked over to the one closed door in the apartment. He turned the handle and pushed the door open, revealing Chris's small bedroom.

There was a double bed in the centre of the room, with a wardrobe pushed up against the far left wall and there was a chest of drawers under the window on the right. Another door led into a small en suite bathroom, with a small mirror fixed to the wall.

Wesker stopped in front of the mirror, inspecting his reflection. He ran a hand over his hair to fix the loose strands back into place. He brought a hand up to his cheek and made sure that the skin was healing. He tugged down the collar of the shirt he had acquired and saw that there were still a few patches of red on his neck, contrasting against his pale skin. Wesker flicked his gaze back up to the mirror, staring into his eyes – his only flaw.

The blonde man walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where he walked over to the chest of drawers. He opened the top drawer, raised an eyebrow and made a sound of amusement, and then closed it again.

The second drawer contained underwear, and the third and fourth ones contained various shirts, t-shirts and jumpers.

Wesker walked over to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. There were various jackets and trousers hanging up in the wardrobe, along with more shirts. He stripped off the clothes he had 'borrowed' and took a shirt and trousers out of Chris's wardrobe. Wesker rummaged through the clothes hanging up, and took one of the hangers out to inspect a leather jacket that was hung on it – the leather would be much more tasteful than the jacket that he had obtained from the police officer. He shrugged the leather jacket on and placed the NYPD jacket on the hanger and placed it back in Chris's wardrobe.

During his rummaging, he found a couple of large cardboard boxes at the bottom of the wardrobe. He tore the layer of duct-tape off the top of one of the boxes and pulled the cardboard flaps open, revealing what looked to be military memorabilia, most likely from Chris's time in the United States Air Force. Partly concealed at the top of the box there was a photograph of a group of young, handsome pilots and other aircrew standing in front of a fighter jet. Chris was standing on the ladder leading up to the cockpit with his flying helmet tucked under his arm. Wesker pulled out the photograph, and heard something metallic clinking. He reached into the box and pulled out a pair of dog tags with 'REDFIELD' and a serial number stamped on them. The chain was broken, as though it had been snapped – most likely when Chris was kicked out of the Air Force. Wesker was confused as to why someone would keep memories of an event that could've ruined his life.

xXx

Chris was almost the only person left in the diner. The only other people were a group of loud teenagers in the corner, still finishing their drinks and toasting to something – probably a college paper that they had passed.

Penny approached the table and stopped beside him – even though he had started smiling when she came over, she was now aware that he was obviously down about something. "Are you ready for your bill?"

"Erm, yeah. Thanks." Chris gave her a quick smile. "I'm just drinking up if you want me out of here."

"Oh, I don't mind if you stay a bit longer." Penny smiled, and then glanced over to the group of teenagers sitting in the corner, wolf-whistling and laughing loudly. "You're a bit more bearable than some of the other customers."

"I can only imagine the kind of riff-raff you get in here." Chris said, taking a sip of his second beer. Only now was he starting to pay attention to the waitress – she was pretty in a plain way, and reminded him a bit of Jill with her smile.

"Tell me about it." She rolled her eyes and smiled at Chris again. "I'll just go and get your bill – I won't be a moment."

Chris watched over the top of his beer glass as the waitress headed for the counter and began to talk to one of the other waitresses. They giggled and both looked at him, and Chris gave Penny a small wave which made her blush.

He leant back in his chair, feeling slightly relaxed at having some normal social contact with human beings and not yelling orders at them whilst trying to escape from a hoard of mutated human beings. It reminded him of when he had been younger, back when he was in the Air Force and just after he had joined S.T.A.R.S – often when he went to a bar with some of his colleagues they would have a competition to see who would be able to chat up the best looking waitress... and sometimes they would even try to chat up the ugliest waitress that they could find.

Penny walked back over to the table. "Here's your bill. It comes to a total of... seventeen dollars and ninety four cents. Which method of payment are you going to use?"

"Cash." Chris said and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He leant forwards, holding out the money and smiled as best as he could. "So when does your shift end?"

xXx

Wesker heard a key turning in the lock of the apartment door. He was back to sitting on the sofa, staring into space. He smirked when a young woman walked into the apartment and stopped, staring at him.

"Hello Penny. You can leave now."

"What? I – how do you know my name?"

He gave her a blank look. "It's written on your nametag."

"Penny, why don't you go and –" Chris froze as he walked into the living room and saw a very familiar blonde man lounging on his sofa. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, hoping that it was just a horrible hallucination.

"Hello Chris." Wesker purred, sitting up on the sofa. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Chris, who is he?" Penny asked, taking a couple of steps backwards, looking towards Chris for an explanation.

Wesker directed his attention to the waitress. "I said you could leave now."

Penny looked up at Chris, feeling frightened of the man in his apartment "Chris? Who is he? Is he your roommate or something?"

"No." Chris grimaced. "But he's right. You should leave."

"But –"

Chris exploded. Why wouldn't she just listen to him? Why couldn't she realise that the tone Wesker was using and the tone that he was using meant that there was something dangerous between the two men? "JUST GET OUT!"

Penny turned and fled, now taking Chris seriously.

Wesker got up off the sofa and walked over to the apartment door and closed it, then put the chain on it and twisted the lock before turning his attention back to Chris. "I think you and I need to have a little chat."

**A/N: Hopefully, I will have chapter three up soon. It depends on how well I'm coping with revision and other fics I am working on.**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you very much for all of the feedback on this story, you wonderful people! I would've had this chapter up sooner, but my brain has been pretty fried in the wind down from exams, and then I got stuck on part of it, but CarEKaos gave me a way to continue which I'm sure will be enjoyable to you all :D**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Warning:**** Oral sex... sort of consensual, sort of isn't**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Three**

Chris could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "What... what are you doing here?"

"You didn't expect to see me again, did you, Chris?" Wesker asked, stalking towards where Chris was standing. "You thought that I had died in that volcano, didn't you?"

"How did you survive?" Chris demanded. "You were... you were in burning hot lava! There was no way you could've survived that! This is all just... it's all just a terrible nightmare! You're dead and I'm dreaming... it's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or something... none of this is real."

"Chris, I can tell you honestly that I am alive." Wesker said. "And stop speaking aloud, it makes you sound insane."

"That's rich coming from you." Chris scoffed.

Wesker rolled his eyes. "Are you still pissed off about that? Really, Chris. I thought that we could put everything behind us... I thought that we could try to get along – I could help you, you know."

"Stop trying to make yourself sound like this is something that can be solved with a handshake and a few beers." Chris snapped. "And how could you help me, Wesker? What could I possibly want from you?"

"Chris, do you seriously believe that I would want to be friends with you? You're the one person who always ruins my plans." Wesker said, pacing up and down the room with his hands behind his back. He stopped at the window, looking out over the city skyline. "The only thing I want is to have my revenge." He turned to face Chris. "I want to destroy you, Chris. I'm going to do it slowly. I'm going to take everything that you love, Chris. I'm going to make you watch as your life crumbles around you. I'm going to start with your sister."

"Stay away from Claire you bastard!" Chris hissed, balling his hands into fists. "Don't drag her into this – don't. She hasn't done anything to you. This is between me and you, Wesker."

"Don't even get me started on what your sister has done." Wesker scowled. "But, none of that is important at the moment. The only thing that is important is me and you – us."

"There is no 'us'."

"Oh, Chris..." Wesker tutted. "There's always been an 'us'."

"Don't even bring that up..." Chris said in disgust, shaking his head as he stepped backwards.

"Don't bring what up, Chris?" Wesker asked, stepping closer to Chris.

"Stop playing games, Wesker. You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you're referring to the times in the cupboard in S.T.A.R.S, the showers, you're old apartment – various places there – need I go on?"

"Just... stop..." Chris growled. He hated Wesker. He hated him so much... why did he have to bring that up? After the betrayal, Chris had done everything he could to forget any time with his old Captain that could be considered anything less than professional. "I want you to get out of here, now. I don't want to see your face ever again."

"That's not very nice."

"I don't give a fuck." Chris snarled.

"What did you just say?" Wesker asked, cupping a hand around his ear. "Did I just hear you say that you miss when we used to fu –" A punch to the jaw prevented Wesker from finishing his sentence.

"I want you out." Chris growled. "I want you out of here right now. Go away, Wesker. Find a nice island where you can live the rest of your life in peace – maybe you'll decide that you don't have to destroy the world, and I can live my life safe in the city. Just get out of here – I never want to see you again."

"Is that it?" Wesker asked, touching his jaw with his fingertips, making sure nothing was broken. "Do you think I'm just going to listen to you and leave you alone now? You ruined my life, Chris –"

"AND YOU RUINED MINE!" Chris yelled.

"Chris, Chris, Chris..." Wesker shook his head. "We both have different ways of defining what a life is. You seem to think that you're insignificant existence is a life – it isn't. I have a life Chris – I'm a God. I can do whatever I want to. I'm perfect." His eyes flashed dangerously. "And then there's you: an ignorant mortal who is _always_ ruining my plans." He took a step towards the other man, who raised his fists in a fighting stance. "I take it you don't keep a gun in the apartment? The BSAA took it away from you, didn't they? It wouldn't surprise me."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "You don't have a gun either."

"Which is why killing you will be all the more satisfying."

Chris's body was working on adrenaline as he threw himself to the floor to avoid the punch Wesker threw. He rolled onto his back and kicked his legs out, trying to knock the blonde to the floor too. Wesker caught Chris's foot and smirked as he twisted it around, making Chris cry out in pain and kick out with his other foot. Surprisingly, he caught Wesker off guard and managed to clip the other man's hip, making him loosen his grip on Chris's ankle.

Chris kicked out again, forcing the blonde to retreat a few steps. Wesker's retreat gave Chris the few extra seconds he needed to get back on his feet and aim a punch to the other man's groin. In an alarmed moment of self preservation, Wesker deflected the punch, leaving Chris with another opening to deliver a blow to his stomach.

_He's slipping._ Chris thought as Wesker kicked out at him again, catching him off-guard. _I've dodged several of his attacks, and I've managed to get more hits on him than I would've thought._

Wesker caught Chris's fist and twisted his arm around behind his back. "I expected more from you after _everything_ we've been through. It's a shame that we aren't more evenly matched, Chris." He kicked Chris to the floor and rested his boot on Chris's chest, just above Chris's breastbone, preparing to cause some – perhaps fatal – damage. "I think it would've been an interesting fight if we were on the same level – unfortunately, you are beneath me – I am superior, Chris. I always have been. I am a God and you are _nothing_."

Chris growled, trying to push Wesker's boot off him. "Some people consider that blasphemy, Wesker."

"And those people are fools." Wesker said. "You know what it's like, Chris, to hold someone's life in your hands – you know how it feels to choose whether they live or die. It's exhilarating." He pressed his foot down. "Now, imagine that feeling amplified – imagine if you held the power to choose whether everyone in the world lived or died – imagine having that much power, Chris – that power qualified me to be a God, and there is no doubt about my existence."

"You're a fucking psycho!"

"I don't think that's very respectful, Chris." Wesker tutted. "It seems as though I'll have to postpone killing you to teach you some manners."

Chris's blood ran cold. _This does not sound good._

"Oh, come on Chris. Why do you look so terrified?" Wesker grabbed Chris by the front of his shirt and hauled him upwards into a kneeling position, a smirk forming on his lips. "It won't be anything you haven't done before."

"Let me go!" Chris snarled, thrashing against the man standing in front of him who was blocking his escape.

"Like I said, no manners." Wesker sighed. "If you had said 'please', I may have considered letting you go. Now though, I don't think I will."

"Please let me go?" Chris fumed – in a normal situation, he never would've degraded himself to the extent of _pleading_ Wesker, but he just wanted to get out this situation alive... and hopefully still in one piece.

"Tch. No." Wesker rolled his eyes. "Why ever would I do a thing like that? I have you right where I want you, Chris, and there's nothing you can do about it." He grabbed a fistful of Chris's hair and pulled him up onto his knees properly.

Chris felt sick.

He had an idea of what Wesker wanted him to do – no, he _knew_ what Wesker wanted him to do. Everything had clicked into place in his mind now. The fact that Wesker had him on his knees, and what Wesker had said – _'It won't be anything you haven't done before.'_

"I'm not going to... Wesker, you can't make me do this!"

"I think you'll find that I _can_."

"No!"

"Chris, either you do this for me now or I go to your dear sister's apartment and kill her slowly." Wesker said, unzipping his flies. "So – what's it to be?"

Chris muttered something under his breath and looked up at Wesker, grimacing.

"Good boy." Wesker chuckled and gripped Chris's hair tighter. "Now come on, I don't want this to take all night."

Chris glared up at Wesker as he unzipped the other man's trousers. Wesker was smirking down at him, slightly relaxing his grip on the other man's hair. He slid the fabric down Wesker's hips, trying to stop himself trembling. He couldn't show Wesker that he was afraid – that way Wesker would've won whatever sick little game he was playing.

"Can you remember doing this before, Chris?" Wesker asked, leaning back against the wall as Chris pulled down his trousers so that he had more room. Wesker wasn't wearing any underwear – he hadn't wanted to take any from Chris's chest of drawers. "Can you remember that time that we were in my office and we were nearly caught by Jill?"

"Don't talk about her." Chris growled, now refusing to meet Wesker's gaze. He was staring at the floor to avoid coming to terms with what he was about to do.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve?" Wesker cooed.

Chris looked up and found himself face to face with Wesker's arousal, pre-cum already leaking from the slit. He hadn't even done _anything_ yet – it just showed what a sadistic man Wesker was, already having a hard-on at Chris going onto his knees in front of him.

"Of course, nothing would've ever happened between you and Jill, even if the BSAA hadn't taken her away." Wesker shrugged.

"You don't know that."

"Chris, you shouldn't be talking – I didn't say that you were done yet. You haven't even started." He yanked Chris's hair, making the other man grunt something – quite possibly a swear word... or even two. "Go on, get to work."

Chris sighed in defeat and glared up at Wesker. _It's just a blow job. If I do this, then maybe he'll leave me alone._ He knew that he was being optimistic, but it was better than surrendering himself to the reality. It was the voice in the back of his mind that kept echoing _'It won't be anything you haven't done before.'_

Wesker gasped as Chris took his arousal into his mouth, placing his hands on the blonde's slim hips. He had forgotten how it felt to succumb to something – to succumb to his desire and what his body needed. He moaned as Chris tongued the slit and then proceeded to run his tongue up and down the length, still glaring up at Wesker. He was trying his best to make the blonde feel uncomfortable, but it was obvious that it wasn't working. Wesker enjoyed the defiance in Chris's eyes, the fact that he _loathed_ what the blonde was making him do.

Chris began to bob his head up and down, adding a light scraping of teeth. His teeth lingered a little too long, and Wesker pulled his hair sharply, growling. "Watch what you're doing, Chris. It wouldn't be wise for you to try anything..." Normally he wouldn't have minded, but as he was still recovering from being submerged in lava some areas were a bit more sensitive than usual.

Chris growled something, now just wanting to get the ordeal over with – his jaw was aching and he just wanted the other man to leave so that he could go to bed. The vibrations in his throat caused by the growling made Wesker hiss and moan, forcing himself deeper into the wet heat of Chris's mouth. Chris dug his fingers into Wesker's hips, trying to stop the blonde making him gag in his eagerness. He finally closed his eyes, remembering back to before he and Wesker had become enemies – back when they were lovers. Wesker had always been in control of his emotions, but there were moments when he would slip up and maybe even _feel_ something. They had been the moments that Chris had locked away in the darkest corners of his mind, determined never to see Wesker in any way other than as a monster.

"Chris, oh... _fuck..._" Wesker panted, now leaning his entire bodyweight against the wall as his knees began to buckle. It was so long since he had indulged in sex with anyone. He couldn't remember the last time he had even stopped to consider being attracted to anyone. He moaned as Chris began to suck harder, bobbing his head more vigorously.

When he released, Wesker threw his head back against the wall and let out a low groan, his hand slipping down the side of Chris's face to rest on his shoulder. Chris pulled away and was about to spit the bitter tasting load at Wesker when the blonde's hands shot out, grabbed Chris's hair again, and the other pressed under Chris's jaw, holding his mouth shut.

"This was supposed to be a lesson in manners, Chris." Wesker sighed. "It went so well until just now. What on earth gave you the idea that I would allow you to spit? Swallow it all, now."

Chris did nothing.

Wesker rolled his eyes. "Come on, Chris. If you do spit it on me, all you'll be doing is ruining your own clothes."

_ What?_ Chris's eyes widened when he recognised that the shirt and trousers that Wesker was wearing were from his wardrobe. _Son of a bitch. At least he didn't take my underwear._ With a grimace, Chris swallowed and Wesker let go of his head. Chris was about to attack the other man in retaliation, but Wesker grabbed his hair and hauled him to his feet.

"Good boy." Wesker whispered, his breath ghosting against Chris's lips.

"You're sick." Chris snarled.

"Oh, don't be so self-righteous." Wesker rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner's of his mouth as he slid a hand between their bodies. "You enjoyed it just as much as I did." He groped the bulge in Chris's trousers, and the ex-BSAA agent bit down on his lip to stop himself reacting.

"I gave you what you wanted." Chris growled. "You can leave now. You can leave me and Claire alone."

Wesker chuckled darkly. "You should have realised by now that I always come back. _Thank_ _you_ for the clothes. I'll be seeing you again sometime... I can promise you that." He leant forwards slightly and let his lips touch Chris's as though he was going to kiss the brunette, but then he pushed him away and headed for the apartment door. "Make sure you don't bring Penny back with you next time... unless she's into that kind of thing."

Chris watched as Wesker opened the door and left, closing it quietly behind him. He leant back against the wall, running his fingers through his knotted hair as he slid down the floor, sitting with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. After the events of the night, he was too tired to take the few steps until he reached his bedroom – it wasn't like he was going to sleep much anyway. Sleep was something that didn't come easy to Chris, ever since this whole mess had started.

**A/N: I hope that chapter was worth the wait!**

**I will try to start chapter 4 as soon as possible, most likely within the next week or two, but I will try my hardest to get it up... but I should concentrate on some coursework.**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated, and thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank for the feedback on the previous chapter.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil, but I do own Pedro the taxi driver.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Four**

When Chris awoke on the apartment floor the next morning it was with a splitting headache and a bitter taste in his mouth. He shakily got to his feet and headed for the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror – to put it bluntly, he looked like shit. His hair was tangled and his face was... _grey_. If there was one thing he was in need of it was definitely a shower. Chris stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the dial.

_Thank God for hot water._

xXx

Wesker was sitting on the bed in the motel room he had acquired from its drunken occupant last night, who was likely to still be asleep in the corridor outside. He had a headache – probably because he didn't have anything to inject himself with. During his fistfight with Chris he had noticed that he was slower. Chris had been able to block a few of his punches and even get a couple of hits on him.

Wesker reached over to the bedside cabinet and opened the drawer, pulling the gun out that he had taken from the police officer. He had been surprised by his enemy – he had expected Chris to put up more of a fight against him. He hadn't even needed to use the gun – he had managed to dominate the other man without any show of force really. He supposed that threatening Chris's sister may have had something to do with his cooperation...

_A weakness._ Wesker thought to himself. _Affection is a weakness._

xXx

Chris opened the doors to his wardrobe, looking for some clean clothes. He found the police uniform that Wesker had mentioned hanging up next to a couple of shirts and pulled it out of the wardrobe, throwing it across the room.

When he finally got dressed he felt slightly better, and went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

There was a sharp knock at the door and Chris felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the sense of fear that Wesker may have returned to pay him another visit.

Picking up an old baseball bat that had been abandoned in the corner of his room for God knows how long, Chris opened the door to the apartment with his toothbrush still in his mouth. Claire took the baseball bat and pushed past him, into the apartment. He could tell by the expression on her face that she was willing to hurt him to get answers.

"Do you know how worried I was last night?" She demanded, giving Chris a gentle shove. "What the hell was the phone call about?"

He took the toothbrush out of his mouth. "What phone call?"

"The one where you decided to go all crazy and talk about Wesker being alive and coming after me and you." Claire placed her hands on her hips and followed him into the bathroom. "At first I thought it might just be the PTS, but then you didn't call me at all after that. I was genuinely worried that you had just seen something that reminded you of Wesker which had caused you to panic. I was scared that you were going to do something stupid."

"Claire..." Chris sighed, rinsing his toothbrush and then placing it in the cup on the edge of the sink. "It's just hard adjusting to all of... this – normality. I've spent so long fighting for my life it's strange to think that there aren't any infected coming for me and I don't have to watch out for Wesker all of the time... I'm... I just need some time to get my head together."_ I can't tell her what really happened..._

"Look, Chris – I don't want to see you fall apart." Claire said. "I don't want to see you slowly driven mad by everything that's happened – I want us to be a family who can talk about this. I want to be able to help you through all of this."

Chris walked out of the bathroom, and she followed him. "Claire, I'm fine. I'm your brother, I'm a Redfield – I can get through this."

"And that sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself rather than me." Claire sighed, crossing her arms. "Chris, I really think it would be good for you to talk to. You can't keep all of this... you can't just go on acting like you're fine!"

"Just stop nagging me!" Chris snapped. "There isn't anyone I can talk to – if I see a psychiatrist they'll just say I'm crazy. The BSAA don't want anything to do with me – they just want this mess gone, which is why they've left me with _nothing_. Sheva is in Africa with Josh rebuilding the damage that Wesker did. The one person I can talk to about this isn't even here! She's going to start a new life without me!"

Claire balled her hands into fists. "You can talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk to anyone!" Chris snapped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _I don't want Wesker to hurt you._ "I'm fine on my own."

"Fine." Claire snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. "Fine. I'm not going out of my way to be treated like shit. I came here to try and help you because _I_ care about _you_. Get used to being on your own, Chris."

"Claire –" Chris tried to grab her arm as she stormed past him, slamming the apartment door closed behind her.

Chris heard her footsteps disappearing down the corridor, and then the echo from Claire stomping down the stairwell. He hated how thin his apartment walls were – it meant that he could hear everything.

xXx

Wesker stepped out of the motel room and smirked, before dropping the keys on the drunk who was still sleeping in the corridor outside. "Thanks for the room." He said as he stepped over the sleeping man. "Don't worry, I'll be in someone else's bed tonight."

He walked out of the motel and stopped on the sidewalk, shoving his hands in his – well, Chris's – coat pockets to keep them warm. He had to admit, the other man did have good taste in clothes.

A taxi pulled up beside him and Wesker climbed into the back.

"Where do you want to go?" The taxi driver asked. He was obviously of Hispanic origin, and had a cigarette between the fingers of his right hand.

Wesker wrinkled his nose. "Away from here."

"Oh, really specific man. _Really _specific." The driver rolled his eyes and took the handbrake off before pulling away. "Man, do you know how great automatic cars are? It means I can smoke _and_ drive at the same time."

"You're talking to me like I'm supposed to care." Wesker said.

"Hey, most customers like to be talked to." The man shrugged. "So where are you from?"

"My life is none of your concern."

The man sighed. "Oh fine, we don't have to talk about you. I can tell you all about me."

"Please _don't._"

"See, I have these great kids – four of them. I'm working as a taxi driver to get money for their college education, I'm working as a cleaner, I'm working as a delivery driver... man, and my wife isn't even doing anything! She just sits at home on the sofa watching chat shows all day pretending that she works from home – it isn't fair!"

Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to hear about your life. I just want a nice and quiet taxi ride. Just... just keep driving until I tell you to stop. Take a right here."

"This is fucking typical." The driver mumbled, shaking his head. He slammed his hand down on the dashboard. "I always get the grumpy customers!"

"Maybe your customers are grumpy because they don't want to listen to you whining about your insignificant life. Do your job and drive." Wesker shook his head in disapproval and decided to stare out of the window.

They drove in silence for a few minutes.

The taxi driver flicked the stub of his cigarette out of the window. "So what's your name?"

"My name is of no interest to you." Wesker said. "Stop the car here."

"Oh, are you getting out already?"

Wesker leant forwards so that his torso was wedged between the front seats of the taxi and pulled the gun he had taken from the police officer out of his belt. "No. You are."

xXx

Chris walked into his flat and dumped the shopping bags on the kitchen counter. He switched the radio on and began to unpack, finally having food in his apartment.

_"Reports are coming in from 51__st__ Street, where a blonde man with a gun has shot a taxi driver and stolen his vehicle. The victim was thirty one year old Pedro Fernando and has been rushed to hospital with a critical..."_

"Shut up!" Chris snapped at the radio, putting bacon in the fridge. "Christ, enough with the blonde people! It's probably not even Wesker!"

_ "The shooter is under suspicion of being the same man who shot an eighteen year old in an apartment block in Brooklyn last night. An eyewitness has said that the shooter was dressed in a pair of trousers, a white shirt and a black jacket –"_

"That's coincidence! This taxi guy isn't Wesker! Plenty of other people wear those clothes! I'm not the only guy in New York who has white shirts and black jackets and trousers! It's not Wesker!" Chris said loudly, opening the cupboard and beginning the stack it with cereal. Yes, he knew he was being childish but it felt good voicing his denials aloud.

_"– The eyewitness also stated that the shooter looked as though he had red eyes."_

"IT'S NOT WESKER!" Chris screamed at the radio before flicking the off-switch and unplugging it so he didn't have to hear anymore about the taxi shooting. "There... there's someone else in New York with red eyes! He's – he's far away! He's gone!"

And that was when the phone began to ring.

Chris put down the packet of biscuits he had been opening and cautiously picked up the handset. "Hello? Chris Redfield here."

_"Chris, have you been watching the news?"_ It was Claire, and she sounded as though she was panicking.

"Oh hey, Claire. I was listening to it on the radio." Chris tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear and continued opening the packet of biscuits. He could be nasty to her, but she was his sister. He knew that she wanted to help, he just felt that she was... a bit too in his face about Africa and getting his life back together. "It's not that much of a big deal – things like this used to happen all the time."

_"Didn't you hear the description they gave?"_

"Yes, I did." Chris sighed, shoving a biscuit into his mouth. He was so hungry – he hadn't eaten since last night at the diner.

_"I know I didn't believe you before and stuff Chris, but we should... we need to tell the BSAA that he's here! He probably wants revenge on you!" _Claire said, her tone becoming more high pitched and frantic.

"Claire, will you just calm down? It's not Wesker!"

_"Chris, I think it's pretty obvious that it is."_

Chris sighed heavily. "Look, I'm trying to unpack some shopping. I'll call you back when I'm done." He ended the call and placed the phone down. He whistled as he continued to unpack the shopping.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Chris walked over and opened it. He tried to slam the door closed, but Wesker jammed his foot inside.

"Fancy coming for a ride?" Wesker asked, pushing the door open fully. He held the taxi keys up to Chris.

Chris felt his heart sink. "You did shoot the taxi driver, didn't you?"

"Yes. Coming?"

"I'd rather not."

Wesker held up the gun in the other hand. "I don't think you have a choice, Chris."

"I'll grab my coat."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I've had quite a bit to deal with at the moment. I've tried to get this chapter written, but I've noticed I haven't had many reviews but quite a few hits on the previous chapter. I don't know why, but it's nice for people to leave feedback if they have the time. I am also changing the category of this story from "romance and angst" to "romance and general", as my plan has taken an unexpected turn and decided that there will not be as much angst as I originally anticipated.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Five**

"You can either sit in the front of the car, get in the backseat or go in the boot." Wesker sighed, shielding the gun with his body so that no passersby could see it, let alone see that it was pointed at Chris. "I don't care what you do, as long as you make your decision quick."

"You are crazy, aren't you?" Chris asked. _As though I need an answer._ "Are you seriously trying to coerce me into a stolen taxi in the middle of New York? If you didn't notice, Wesker, it's daytime and every police precinct in New York is out looking for you because you keep shooting people."

"Which is why you need to hurry up!" Wesker snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. The area where Chris lived wasn't exactly busy at this time of day, but he still didn't want to draw any unwanted attention. "Get in the car, or I will put you in there myself."

Chris heard the safety on the gun click. "Okay, okay – there's no need to be like that. I'm getting in the back."

"Good boy." Wesker smirked, watching as Chris climbed into the back of the taxi. He reached over to the other man and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket pocket.

Chris's eyes widened. "Why do you have those?"

"I did beat up a police man and steal his clothes and gun, Chris." Wesker felt the need to remind the brunette. Chris remembered the uniform that was currently hanging up in his wardrobe. He really hoped that the police didn't connect him to any of the crimes and decide to search his apartment... what if that teenager had told the police that the man who had shot his friend had been looking for the brunette who lived in the apartment block? "Did you really think I would leave him with the handcuffs when they could be so useful?"

"I didn't really think about it, if I'm honest." Chris said bitterly.

Wesker closed the door and walked around to the front of the car, where he climbed into the driver's seat. "Have you got your seatbelt on?"

_A seatbelt is the least of my worries._ "Erm, no." Chris snorted. "It's kind of difficult to put a seatbelt on when you're _wearing handcuffs_."

"Fine. If you die in a car accident, it's your own fault for not co-operating." Wesker said, putting his own seatbelt on. "Right... I've never driven an automatic before. How do you drive this thing?"

"You drove it to my apartment didn't you?"

"Yes... but I didn't keep to the highway code." Wesker said, turning around to look at the man sitting in the back of the car. "This time I don't really want to be chased half way across New York by the police."

"Wesker, do you even have a license?"

"My license expired when I died, Chris." Wesker scowled, turning his attention back to the car. "Next time, remind me to steal a manual."

"What do you mean next time?"

"Chris, I stole this car and, as you said earlier, every precinct in New York is out looking for me." Wesker rolled his eyes, checking in the mirrors for a gap in the traffic. "I am not planning on keeping this car – it would be too obvious."

"Where are we even going?" Chris asked as Wesker took a gap and pulled out onto the road.

"Away from here." Wesker replied, leaning over and pulling a sat-nav out of the glove box. He turned it on and put it in the holder on the dashboard. "Somewhere safe that I can go to heal."

_"Take the next road on your right."_ The sat-nav said. It had a woman's voice, with the slightest hint of an accent.

Wesker grumbled something under his breath and leant over to change the settings on the technological navigation device.

"Wesker, you've missed the turning." Chris stated. If he was going to die, he may as well annoy Wesker as much as he could beforehand – there was no sense in dying quietly when he hated this man with every part of his entire being.

"I'll just get a new route." Wesker scowled.

_"Turn around when possible."_ The sat-nav now spoke with a male voice.

Chris chuckled to himself. "Why did you change the voice? It was fine as it was."

_ "Turn around when possible."_

"Did you meet Excella, Chris?"

_"Turn around when possible."_

"Erm, yeah..."

_"Turn around when possible."_

"That's why I changed the voice." Wesker growled, pulling out in front of a truck driver, who proceeded to honk at him furiously.

_"Turn around when possible."_

Wesker rolled his eyes and glared at the sat-nav. "I'm trying."

Chris sighed and leant back against the seat, closing his eyes. If he knew Wesker, then it was likely that they would be going somewhere far away from where anyone would be able to find them easily – they would probably be going to another country, or at least another state. Surprisingly, he wasn't worried what the other man was going to do to him. He was more worried about where they were going, and what Wesker was going to do when they got there.

xXx

_Wesker stopped next to the young marksman. "Chris, I need to see you in my office." He leant down so that his lips were next to Chris's ear. "And it's not because of the reports." He gave Chris's ass a quick squeeze and then walked away, quietly closing the door to his office._

_ Chris's cheeks flushed bright red, and he hoped that no-one else had noticed the exchange that had just happened between himself and the S.T.A.R.S Captain. He wasn't sure what they had, but whatever it was... it wasn't supposed to be known to the rest of the team. If anyone found out, it was likely that one of them would be transferred._

_ Chris stood up and walked over to the door to Wesker's office, when he was tapped on the shoulder by someone. He turned around to see Jill standing behind him._

_ "Oh, hey Jill. What do you need?" Chris asked. "I was just about to go and see the Captain."_

_ "Have you filed your reports yet?"_

_ "Nope."_

_ "Do you want me to file yours?" Jill asked with a knowing smile. She already knew what the answer to her question would be – she had asked it so many times before, and she always received the same answer._

_ "If you do, you're my hero."_

_ "Don't worry, I'll do it tonight. I'm off home." Jill's smile widened. "Good luck with Wesker – he's been in a pretty weird mood recently."_

_ "Thanks Jill." Chris grinned and waved as she walked away. He twisted the handle and stepped into Wesker's office._

_ The S.T.A.R.S Captain was sat at his large wooden desk, signing a few sheets of paper. Chris smiled and flipped the blinds closed, before walking over to the desk. Wesker leant back in his chair and placed his hands on the armrests. _

_ "You wanted to see me, sir." Chris said._

_ "Yes, I did." Wesker smirked, looking up as Chris walked closer to him. He pushed the chair backwards away from the desk and beckoned Chris over to him. The brunette took a couple of steps towards Wesker and stood in front of him, feeling slightly nervous due to the anticipation of what was going to happen._

_ Chris hooked a leg over Wesker and straddled the Captain in his chair, placing his hands on Wesker's shoulders. "Jill just left."_

_ "Good."_

_ "Are you okay?" Chris asked – he knew that it was likely Wesker wouldn't answer him. Their relationship was built on the physical – to put it bluntly, sex. They didn't talk about their feelings. As far as they were concerned, the other didn't have feelings. They were just two mature adults partaking in sexual intercourse with each other because... well, because they found each other attractive._

_ "I'm fine." Wesker replied, placing his hands on Chris's hips. The reply was curt and emotionless, the same way Wesker always was when they came close to talking about 'feelings'._

_ Chris decided to let it drop – Wesker was a cryptic person, and if he tried to push the conversation further it was likely the blonde would get mad and just send him home alone. He leant down and pressed a kiss to Wesker's lips – it was obvious the man needed a distraction from whatever had been plaguing his thoughts recently. Wesker was unresponsive for a few seconds before relaxing slightly._

_ The blonde dug his fingers into Chris's hips and slid his tongue between the brunette's parted lips. Chris arched against him, pushing his groin down against Wesker's. The S.T.A.R.S Captain was already half hard underneath him, snapping his hips up to meet Chris's. _

_ Within seconds, Chris's shirt had disappeared, and he was working on the buttons of Wesker's shirt. The S.T.A.R.S Captain pushed Chris off the chair, and he landed on the floor with a thud._

_ "Ow!" Chris scowled. "What the fuck was that for?"_

_ Wesker undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor in front of the brunette. "You were taking too long." The blonde smirked and crooked his finger, beckoning Chris towards him. Chris felt all of the blood rush to his groin as he got on his hands and knees and crawled towards the Captain. Wesker grabbed a fistful of Chris's hair and hauled him onto his knees._

_ "Ow!"_

_ "Oh, stop complaining." Wesker hauled Chris to his feet and slammed him against the wall._

_ And then Wesker's eyes were red, as he raised a gun and aimed it at Chris's head._

xXx

Chris awoke with a start.

"Good dream?" Wesker asked with a chuckle. "It sounded like one."

It was dark now, meaning that Wesker had been driving for hours – and he could tell by the numerous muscle cramps he had when he shifted from the position he had been sleeping in.

"Where are we?" Chris asked, rubbing his eyes.

"At a service station." Wesker replied. "I need some sunglasses."

"I'm handcuffed, Wesker. By the time I manage to open the door you'll be done."

"No, I can't go in there – my eyes attract too much attention. Someone might recognise me from the bulletins." Wesker said, shaking his head. "I need you to get my sunglasses."

Chris held up his hands and jangled the handcuffs. "Yes, because I can walk into a service station _wearing handcuffs_. I don't even have any money with me. You kidnapped me when I was unpacking shopping – I left my wallet in the kitchen."

"I said 'get', Chris." Wesker said. "I didn't say that you had to buy them."

"I am not stealing you a pair of sunglasses!" Chris protested.

Wesker sighed and flicked the safety off on the gun, before aiming it at Chris. "Really? My gun says otherwise."

"Handcuffs off first." Chris sighed, holding his hands out to Wesker. "If you take the handcuffs off I won't look as suspicious."

"And how do I know you're not going to run away?"

"Because you'll blow off my kneecaps before I can get anywhere?" Chris suggested, jangling the handcuffs.

"Good point – though I don't want you bleeding on the interior of my car."

"This isn't your car!" Chris spluttered.

Wesker smirked. "It is now."

"It's a New York taxi you shot someone for!"

"Oh, I know that." Wesker said. _It's a bit too conspicuous. I need to change it._ "So are you going to try and run away or not?"

"No." Chris sighed. "There isn't any point, is there?"

"No." Wesker said. He took the key out of his jacket pocket and turned to face Chris. "When you come back, these are going straight back on, okay?"

"I wouldn't expect anything else." Chris said and rubbing his sore wrists once Wesker had removed the cuffs. "I'll be back as soon as I get the sunglasses – if I don't get arrested for stealing or something."

"I would wish you luck, but that would imply that I actually care what happens to you."

xXx

The service station shop was small, with shelves stacked full of food, books and CD's. The shop was quite crowded, which meant that it would be harder for the shopkeeper to see Chris as he stole the sunglasses for Wesker. There was a sunglasses rack in the back corner of the shop, with a newspaper stand next to it.

Chris walked over to the sunglasses rack and started to look for a pair that would suit Wesker. There were no designer brands like the blonde usually wore, but there wasn't anything Chris could do about that. Wesker would have to make do with cheap sunglasses, usually brought by people who just wanted something to keep the sun out of their eyes as they drove. After inspection, Chris picked out a pair of aviators and picked up a newspaper from the rack to conceal the sunglasses in hand – and it would give him something to do on the car journey. He was almost out of the door when the shop alarm went off.

xXx

Wesker was pondering why Chris had agreed to come with him willingly – he didn't fight back at all, and Wesker barely had to use any force to make Chris follow his demands. He had considered the thought that Chris had too much to live for, but the brunette had nothing. He didn't have a job or any status – all he had was his pathetic apartment and his irritating sister. He didn't even have a girlfriend – Jill had been taken away by the BSAA, and it wasn't as though anything would've happened between them, and if it had their relationship wouldn't have lasted. They had been friends for too long. The romance thing wouldn't work between them.

The blonde was startled by the passenger door being yanked open, and Chris threw himself down, breathing heavily. He held the sunglasses out to Wesker, still clutching the newspaper in his hand.

"You're supposed to be in the back." Wesker scowled, exchanging the sunglasses for the handcuffs.

Chris put his seatbelt on and slapped the handcuffs on, bracing himself on the seat. "Never mind that now, _just drive_!"

"Why?" Wesker asked.

A bullet smashed the back window, and Chris ducked down in his seat. "That's why!"

"Is that the shopkeeper?" Wesker asked calmly, starting the car.

"Yes!"

Wesker checked his mirrors and pulled away with a screech of tyres. He looked up into the rear-view mirror and saw a man standing in the middle of the car park, taking aim at the New York taxi as it drove up to the car park exit. "Oh. I guess you were caught."

"Will you hurry up?" Chris snapped. "I won't recover from a bullet wound as quick as you!"

"Your whining is insufferable." Wesker muttered under his breath, before pulling out onto the main road just as there was a sound of a bullet hitting the back of the car. "I'm going to kill you soon."

"Why haven't you already?" Chris asked.

"You have uses." Wesker shrugged. "And I have something else in store for you, Chris. Killing you now wouldn't be as much fun as what I'm planning to do to you."

Chris slumped low in his seat and stared out of the car window – there was something comforting about night driving and the steady stream of lights beside the road, even after the dark comment Wesker had just made.

**A/N: Another chapter done! Again, I'm sorry for the wait.**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews and favourites I've had on this story! It's great to know that my writing is being appreciated. This chapter is a lot longer than I had first intended it to be, but you get Chris and Wesker trying to tell jokes (well, Wesker telling his idea of a joke), confrontations and smut! I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Warning:**** Smut!**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Six**

_"The suspect is heading north, most likely towards the Canadian border."_ The radio crackled. _"He was spotted at a service station ten miles out of New York, with missing person Chris Redfield. It seems as though the two are working together, rather than the suspect pursuing Mr Redfield for some sort of unknown motive, most likely revenge as was first thought. The suspect is driving a yellow New York taxi, which he stole from thirty one year old Pedro Fernando, who died of his injuries earlier today..."_

Wesker switched the radio off as the report continued with theories of how he and Chris were working together, one of them being that they were part of a gang.

"I can't believe they think I'm in league with you!" Chris grumbled, slumping in his seat. "I would've thought that the BSAA would be trying to keep this quiet."

"They think I'm dead, Chris." Wesker said. "They're probably the same as your sister – they don't believe I'm back. They'll think you're delirious if you try to tell them."

Chris frowned. "How did you...?"

"I still have connections." Wesker smirked, taking a sharp left. "I have your sister's phone bugged, Chris. I must say, that conversation you had from the payphone was rather amusing."

"For you, maybe." Chris scowled and began to flick through the newspaper. He stopped on a rather trashy looking page, full of colour and icons of smiley faces. "Hey Wesker, do you want to hear something funny?"

"Is it another hysterical phone call between you and Claire?"

"No."

"Then I doubt I am going to find this funny."

Chris ignored the sinister growl in Wesker's voice, and continued to scan the page for a decent joke. "Hey Wesker?"

"What?" The blonde sighed.

"How do you make milkshake?"

"I don't know." Wesker said, gripping the steering wheel in frustration. "How do you make milkshake?"

Chris cracked up laughing. "You scare it!"

"Oh, hilarious." Wesker drawled, rolling his eyes. "I have a joke for you."

"Really?" Chris asked. He had never really thought of Wesker as the type to tell jokes. Wesker was always so serious and... well, psychopathic. His idea of a joke would've been... he didn't joke. He was serious about everything he did.

"How do you make Chris shake?"

"... I'm not sure." Chris answered warily.

"Point a gun in his face." Wesker chuckled and pulled his stolen gun out of his holster and aimed it at the brunette in the seat beside him.

Chris raised his cuffed hands above his head, in a gesture of surrender. "This isn't very funny. Please put both hands back on the wheel."

"Chris, I already told you that I'm a safe driver. Just because I don't have a licence anymore, it doesn't mean I've forgotten how to drive." Wesker said, re-holstering the gun. "Besides, I thought that joke was better than your milkshake one."

"I wish I was sitting in the back again."

"And then I would have to take my hands off the wheel _and_ my eyes off the road to aim my gun at you." Wesker said. "You were the one who ran into the front, screaming about how the shopkeeper was going to kill you."

"I was not screaming!" Chris protested. "And most normal people don't just stand there and fix their hair when they're staring death in the face."

"Was that directed at me?"

"Who else would it be directed at?" Chris mumbled. If his hands weren't cuffed together at that moment in time, he would've folded his arms stubbornly.

They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Neither of them was entirely pleased with the company they were in – both of them hated each other. When it all came down to the nitty-gritty, they hated each other because all they had done was destroy each other's lives. When Wesker had betrayed S.T.A.R.S, Chris had dedicated his life to hunting Wesker down and trying to get even. Wesker's plans had always been foiled by the brunette – he had never hated anyone as much as he hated Chris, and he was sitting right next to him. It would be so easy for him to shoot the former BSAA agent, but he knew that wouldn't satisfy his lust for blood. He wanted to make Chris suffer. He wanted Chris to know how much of an annoyance he had been.

Chris was first to break the silence. "Can I put the radio on?"

"If you must."

Chris switched the radio on, and began to flick through different radio stations, looking for some good music to play. He had no idea what Wesker liked – or if the blonde even liked music at all – so he decided to stick to his own tastes. He settled on a station that was playing rock music, and Wesker frowned at it in disgust.

"What?" Chris asked. "This is a good song."

"You would call this a _song_?" Wesker asked.

"Erm... yeah?" Chris's brow furrowed. "What would you call it?"

"Shit." Wesker pulled the gun from the holster and aimed it at the radio. He pulled the trigger, and the radio exploded into a shower of sparks and crackling noises. "That's better."

"What the – why did you do that?" Chris asked, looking at Wesker in horror. "You could've just changed station! You didn't have to shoot the radio!"

"I prefer the silence." Wesker said, holstering the gun. "Let that be a warning to you, Chris – if you don't shut up you'll be going the same way as the radio."

"Charming." Chris said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I'll keep that in mind."

They sat in silence again, neither of them having anything to say to the other – although there were plenty of things they wanted to say. Chris wanted to tell Wesker what he had done. He wanted to tell Wesker how he had been destroyed when the blonde had betrayed them all. He wanted to tell Wesker that it was his fault that Jill was gone. Chris wanted her in his life – as a lover or a friend – but he was never going to see her again. The BSAA knew that Wesker was trouble. They would never trust Jill enough to leave her alone. Most of all, Chris didn't want to _say_ anything to Wesker. He wanted to _hurt_ him. He wanted to let go of everything and just _punch_ the man in the seat beside him.

But he would never do that.

He could never do that.

He was Chris Redfield – he was the good guy.

Wesker, on the other hand, wanted to make Chris know how angry he really was. He wanted Chris to know that he was the reason that he had fallen so far from humanity. Chris infuriated him to the point of savagery. He had been a _God_. The world had been his – he was going to create his own new world with Uroboros. He would be worshipped by everyone.

But Chris had put a stop to that.

Way back in S.T.A.R.S, if he had known how much trouble Chris was going to cause – if he had known that Chris was going to be the only person able to compete with him he would've asked the brunette to join him.

He admired Chris for his determination and it made him sick.

"Wesker?"

Wesker glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Can we take a break?" Chris asked.

"Why?"

"I need to pee."

"Why didn't you go earlier?" Wesker sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "You could've gone at the service station!"

"If I had gone to the toilet you would've thought that I was running away and you would've shot me!" Chris protested. "I didn't need to go then anyway."

"Maybe you should've gone just in case." Wesker said.

"Will you please pull over?" Chris snapped. "I'm getting desperate here."

Wesker let out a sigh. "Fine. I'll stop at the next lay-by. Just... hold it in or something."

"Don't you need to go?"

"I do now you keep talking about it!" Wesker growled, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"Oh... I was just wondering, considering you're not... well, 'normal'." Chris said, complete with air quotes.

"Chris, if I couldn't pee it's likely that I wouldn't be able to ejaculate either." Wesker said, a smirk touching his lips. "And I believe you're quite experienced in –" Wesker was cut off by Chris's fist – well, fists, seeing as his hands were cuffed together – colliding with his face, knocking his sunglasses askew. Due to the sudden impact, Wesker turned the wheel sharply and the car skidded off the road.

"FUCKING BAST –" Chris was yelling, when Wesker slammed his foot on the break. He grabbed the brunette around the neck and slammed him against the interior of the car, making Chris see stars – irony. Chris undid his seatbelt groped behind himself for the door handle and opened it, tumbling out of the car. Wesker climbed out of the driver's side of the car and walked over to where Chris was scrabbling in the dirt, trying to get to his feet. He grabbed Chris by the front of his shirt and pulled him up onto his feet, slamming him against the side of the car. Chris moved his head to the side, avoiding Wesker's next punch which landed on the metal frame of the door next to him, leaving an impressive dent.

Chris gripped the front of Wesker's shirt and tried to push the other man away. If his hands weren't cuffed together, it would be easier for him to fight back. Wesker punched Chris in the stomach, and felt the other man crumple against him as he wheezed.

"Did you really think you would be able to fight me? Did you really think that you could fight me and win?" Wesker asked, shaking his head. "I may be weaker, Chris, but I'm not going to lose to you again. I'm not going to let you get away with attacking me while I'm driving – you have to learn your place."

Chris tried to bring his knee up into Wesker's groin, but Wesker beat him to it and slid his knee between Chris's thighs. The brunette gasped and looked up, at Wesker. The sunglasses he was wearing were still askew and had slid slightly down his nose, enabling Chris to stare up into his fire-like eyes.

xXx

_ "What the hell were you doing?" Wesker yelled and threw Chris against the locker room wall. It was only a temporary base, due to the mysterious incidents in the Arklay Mountains. "I told you to stay where you were!"_

_ "You were in trouble!" Chris protested. He had never seen the S.T.A.R.S Captain lose his composure like this before. "What was I supposed to do? Leave you to die? If that was one of those animals that's been getting everyone else..."_

_ "I could handle it!" Wesker insisted. "I said I could over the radio, but you just had to come and play the hero, didn't you?"_

_ "I'm sorry I was concerned!"_

_ "You didn't need to be concerned!"_

_ "You're not invincible, Wesker!" Chris insisted, and the locker room fell silent as Chris stared into the other man's eyes. He would never say it, but he needed Wesker. If anything had happened to the other man, he didn't know what he would do. Work wouldn't be the same – nothing would be the same._

_ Wesker pushed Chris again, and the brunette winced as his back hit the wall again. "If I don't come back, it'll be my choice. You don't have to worry about a thing."_

Why does that sound like he's hinting at something?_ Chris thought, his hands gripping the front of Wesker's shirt. "Make sure you come back."_

_ "I always come back."_

_ Chris pulled the blonde into a rough kiss, as thought he was showing the other man how much he needed him without saying anything – they didn't talk about feelings. One of Wesker's hands gripped Chris's hair as he deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue into the brunette's mouth._

xXx

"You were right when you said you always come back." Chris growled.

"What?" Wesker asked, frowning. "What are you talking about, Chris?"

"In the Arklay Mountains." Chris replied, shifting his position. It was uncomfortable, being pinned against the side of the taxi with Wesker's thigh between his legs causing an uncomfortable pressure on his groin. "When you said that you could handle it – you said that you would always come back, and if you didn't it would be your choice."

"You still remember that?" Wesker asked, surprised that Chris still had that moment stamped on his brain – it had been such a small moment, one of many, and to Wesker it had as little meaning as the rest of them. Or so he told himself. He instantly regained his composure and pushed his sunglasses back up his nose, hiding his eyes from Chris. His eyes were the only thing that made him readable. "Why would you remember something like that?"

Chris took a deep breath. "Your words haunted me. I never really understood what you meant at the time... I didn't care."

Wesker didn't know how to respond – this was one of the moments where he and Chris came close to admitting some sort of feeling for the other, but they managed to suppress it. He could feel Chris's heart beat against his chest, and he could hear the other man's ragged breathing in his ears. There was nothing he wanted to do more than fuck the other man right where they were standing.

"Wesker?" Chris said quietly. "I really need to pee now."

The blonde slowly loosened his grip on the other man and stepped away, running his fingers over his hair to check that no strands were out of place. He looked away as the brunette wandered away, looking for a hedge to go behind.

"If you go too far I'll shoot you." Wesker called after him.

"I know." Chris called back, and Wesker heard the... _Smile? Was that a smile?_ In Chris's voice.

xXx

They drove in silence along the road. The car shuddered as they drove over another pothole. Chris was dozing in the passenger seat, his cuffed hands resting in his lap. He would make muffled sounds every now and then and fidget.

xXx

_"We'll be back in a few hours." Wesker said. "Until then you can relax."_

_ Wesker and Chris were sitting on the back of the S.T.A.R.S transport as Jill sped along the bumpy road. Chris winced as they drove over another bump and his broken arm jarred against the side panel of the car._

_ "I think those painkillers are only just starting to kick in." Chris mumbled, his eyes drooping shut._

_ "Don't fight it – you'll feel better if you go to sleep." Wesker reassured him. He would rather have been driving, but he was their Captain and it was his job to make sure Chris was okay. Chris had even asked Wesker to sit with him. Jill was being too stifling, checking that Chris was feeling alright every five minutes._

_ Chris closed his eyes, and within seconds he was snoring quietly, his head thrown back and his mouth open._

How attractive. _Wesker thought to himself, looking away from the brunette in the seat next to him. The sun was starting to appear over the horizon, softly illuminating everything. Wesker was startled when he felt something settle on his shoulder, and his head snapped around. He tensed when he realised that the weight on his shoulder was Chris's head, and the brunette was using him as a pillow._

xXx

Wesker jumped in his seat when something landed on his shoulder. He sighed and looked to his right, seeing that Chris was using him as a pillow again. The brunette was sleeping in the same position as over ten years ago, with his head thrown back and his mouth open. Wesker looked at him in disgust, silently threatening the other man if he happened to drool on him.

Chris shifted in his seat and _snuggled_ into the other man. Wesker shrugged his shoulders, trying to nudge the other man away. He only succeeded in knocking Chris's head off his shoulder, and onto his lap via the steering wheel.

_This would be better if he was conscious._ Wesker thought to himself with a chuckle.

xXx

When Chris woke up, it was with a dull pain in his head, and his face in...

"ARGH!" Chris sat bolt upright and elbowed the other man in the ribs. "What the hell are you playing at?"

"I didn't do anything." Wesker sighed, switching off the car engine. "You were asleep and you decided to use me as a leaning post. Eventually, you just slipped down and ended up face-first in my lap."

"You could've moved me!" Chris scowled, rubbing the bruise on his head – he wasn't even going to ask how he had got that. He assumed that he had hit his head on that steering wheel, and that was a rather nice thought than many of the other's that sprung to mind.

"No." Wesker shook his head in disgust. "You were drooling. I didn't want your saliva on me. It was bad enough on these trousers – I need a change of clothes."

"They were my clothes anyway!"

"Well, I'm going to throw them out when I steal some more." Wesker shrugged. "It's not like you have any need of them anymore."

"I wouldn't want to wear them after you have, anyway." Chris scowled, holding his hands out to Wesker. "I'm not going anywhere with these handcuffs on."

"What makes you think I'm taking you with me?" Wesker asked. "As far as I'm concerned, you can sleep in the car – it's not like we're going to pay for a room at this hotel, and you'll probably go all 'high and mighty Redfield' on me and decide to tell someone who I am."

"Yeah, because it's not going to look suspicious if anyone sees me sitting in a taxi _wearing handcuffs_!" Chris insisted, shoving his hands in Wesker's face. "Come on, take the cuffs off."

"Ugh, fine." Wesker sighed, reaching into his jacket pocket for the keys to the handcuffs. But I'm not letting you out of my sight – I don't trust you."

"I don't trust you either."

Wesker smirked and opened the car door. "Touché. Now come on, before I change my mind and decide I'm going to leave you in here, consequences be damned if someone saw."

xXx

"Would that be a single room for each of you, or a double room?" The receptionist behind the desk asked.

Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose. He had already asked the woman for a twin room, but it seemed he would have to put it in simpler terms for her. "We want a double room, but with two single beds – that's called a _twin room_."

"Very well." The receptionist said, and began to type their details into the booking system. She looked up at Chris and Wesker. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names. What are they?"

Even though they were nearly in Canada and crossed the border into another state, it still wasn't safe for them to use their real names. Someone might have seen the broadcasts and was just in need of their names to recognise them as wanted men.

Chris stepped in, before Wesker decided to kill the receptionist out of anger. "I'm Mr Smith, and he's – erm – Mr Jones."

"Oh." The receptionist's eyes widened. "Oh, I see!"

_Oops._ Chris thought, realising that the receptionist had completely the wrong idea.

"Well, here are your keys –" The receptionist plonked them into Chris's hand. "– And you can settle your bill in the morning! Everything you take from the mini-bar will be added on. Have a nice night!"

Chris headed for the elevator, followed by Wesker. As soon as the door closed, each was left to his own thoughts in the silence again.

"So... what are we going to do when someone sees the taxi in the car park and recognises it from all of the news reports?" Chris asked, turning to look at Wesker. The blonde was leaning against the side of the elevator. Chris couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about the other man that looked a little... off.

"We won't be using the taxi much longer." Wesker said, folding his arms. "It's too obvious – there are too many people looking for us."

"What are you going to do, steal another car?" Chris joked.

The look Wesker shot him was purely serious.

They reached their room within the next couple of minutes. Chris unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Wesker in first. The blonde walked past him and flicked the light on.

"Chris?"

"What?" The brunette asked, rubbing his eyes. He had only just realised how tired he was, even though he had slept in the car. He wondered if tiredness even took its toll on Wesker anymore, seeing as the other man hadn't gone to sleep once.

"Didn't I ask for a twin room?"

"I think so."

"Then why is there a double bed?" Wesker asked. "There should be two single beds."

Chris groaned and walked over to the bed. "I don't even care anymore." He flopped down on his back, enjoying the feel of a soft mattress with no springs sticking up in random places. "I just want to go to bed... I feel like I could sleep for days."

"You slept for hours in the car!"

"I'm still tired!"

"How can you still be tired?" Wesker asked, perching on the edge of the bed. He saw Chris sit up and shrug. Wesker sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "By the way, we're going to have to sneak out tomorrow morning, seeing as neither of us have any many to pay a bill. We also need to get some new clothes – I can break in and steal some while you obtain a new vehicle."

"Why do I get given the job of stealing a car?" Chris grumbled, running his fingers through his hair.

"Because you have no taste in clothes." Wesker smirked. "I'm sure you'll be able to pick something good – there was an Audi in the car park when we drove in."

"Whatever." Chris scowled, walking over to the en-suite bathroom. "I'm going for a shower."

xXx

When Chris came out of the en-suite with a towel wrapped around his waist, Wesker was laying in the centre of the double bed, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling.

"The shower's free." Chris said.

Wesker didn't say anything to Chris – he just got up off the bed and walked straight past him, locking the door behind him.

In the bathroom, Wesker ripped the sunglasses from his face and stared into the mirror, running his fingers through his hair. Being on the road with Chris had unearthed so many memories he had wanted to stay buried – things like the day Chris had refused to be anything less than a permanent part of his life, and Chris's sleeping habits when they were travelling. He had never wanted any of those memories to mean anything.

In the bedroom, Chris flopped down onto his back. He had left his clothes in the bathroom, and he wanted at least his boxers to wear in bed. There was no way he would sleep naked if he would be sharing a bed with Wesker – it wouldn't start well, and it wouldn't end well. Wesker would start off with comments about their shared past which Chris wished he could just forget, and then it would finish with a fist fight and perhaps an intense confrontation similar to the one when he had managed to get Wesker to drive the car off the road.

The bathroom door opened, and Wesker walked out, only wearing the trousers he had taken from the brunette's wardrobe. He was towel drying his hair, and it was the messiest Chris had ever seen it. Wesker sat down on the edge of the bed, a faint smirk touching his lips.

Chris propped himself up on his elbows. "What?"

"What?" Wesker asked, frowning.

"You were smirking."

"I was? Oh."

"Yeah." Chris said, shuffling to the edge of the bed. "I'm going to get some clothes."

"Do you want the left or right side of the bed?" Wesker asked.

"Erm... I don't really mind." Chris said. "Does it matter?"

"I'll sleep nearer the door – that way it'll be harder for you to try and escape." Wesker said, pulling back the bedcovers.

"I'm not going to try and escape."

"I don't believe you."

Chris sighed and walked into the en-suite, over to the towel rail which his clothes were hanging up on. He grabbed his boxers and pulled them on, hanging his towel up in their place. When he stepped back into the bedroom, Wesker was laying on his back on top of the sheets, his hair now perfect. Chris crawled under the bedcovers next to him and rolled on to his side so that he was facing Wesker.

"Are you going to want any covers?" Chris asked.

Wesker didn't answer him verbally – he shifted and pulled the bedcovers up over him, laying on his side with his back to Chris.

"Well... goodnight." Chris said quietly and reached up for the light switch.

The room was completely dark, except for the soft stream of moonlight coming through a small gap in the curtains. Chris sighed and rolled onto his other side – he had heard Wesker's breathing deepen, showing that the other man was already asleep, or close to being. He chuckled to himself, remembering the receptionist's reaction to their fake names – she probably thought they would be banging each other senseless right now.

Wesker mumbled something unintelligible, and rolled over so that he was facing Chris. "Why have you stolen the sheets? I thought we were sharing!"

"Oh, sorry." Chris yawned, rolling over to face Wesker. "I didn't realise I did." _It's been so long since I've shared a bed with anyone – let alone slept in a bed._

"Well you did."

"I said I'm sorry!"

"Whatever." Wesker grumbled and rolled over again.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, deciding not to retort. There was no point in starting _another_ fight with the other man. Chris then turned over himself, facing the window. He was startled when he felt a hand grip his shoulder, and he was gently but firmly rolled onto his back.

Chris sighed in annoyance and looked up at Wesker, about to grumble to the other man about being disturbed again. Before he had a chance to say anything, Wesker was pinning him to the mattress by his shoulders and kissing him violently. Chris thought that his first reaction would be to push the blonde away and smack him one, but instead his arms snaked around Wesker's neck and pulled the other man closer, entangling his fingers in Wesker's hair. Wesker's fingers dug into Chris's shoulders, pushing him harder against the mattress.

They broke for air, both studying each other's expressions. Wesker's face was a mask of composure and Chris's face was flushed – he didn't know how he was supposed to react to this. He and Wesker hadn't kissed since they were in S.T.A.R.S – they hadn't really had any opportunities to, and they hated each other. They weren't supposed to be kissing, they were always trying to kill each other.

Wesker kissed Chris again, this time prodding at the other man's lips with his tongue. Chris relaxed slightly and parted his lips, allowing Wesker's tongue to explore his mouth. His hands gripped Wesker's hair tightly and he arched up off the bed, pushing his hips up against the blonde's. Wesker groaned softly and ran his hands over Chris's muscled torso. Chris's breathing hitched as Wesker tweaked an already pert nipple, eliciting a small moan from the brunette.

"... Wesker..."

"Do you want me to stop?" The blonde asked bluntly.

"Wha – erm... I..."

"Do you want me to stop?" Wesker repeated, this time slower. Chris shook his head and closed his eyes, throwing his head against the pillows as Wesker's hand slid past the waistband of his boxers and gripped his length.

Wesker smirked as Chris hands moved from his hair to the fastenings of the trousers he was wearing, fumbling to get the zip undone. He yanked Wesker's trousers down, sliding them past his hips, making the blonde close his eyes and sigh softly. Wesker began to deliver small bites and kisses to the sensitive skin of Chris's neck, making the younger man whimper. Chris lifted up his hips so that Wesker could slide his boxers off, granting better access. Wesker released the skin of Chris's neck from between his teeth, knowing that there would be admirable love bites showing in the morning instead of the angry red marks he could make out in the moonlight.

Chris no longer had any control of what he was doing – he couldn't stop, even if he wanted to. He could feel so much pent up need. There was another feeling there – something below the surface. He decided that it was nostalgia as Wesker prodded at Chris's lips with his fingers. Chris took the digits into his mouth, looking up at the blonde with hooded eyes. Wesker's expression had softened since they had started... whatever this was... and he almost looked fond of the younger man as he watched him suck on his fingers.

There were no words exchanged between them because there weren't any needed. There would be no making sure the other wanted to go through with it, as both of them were so sure on the matter. There would be no melodramatic confessions of buried feelings which belonged in a trashy movie because it wasn't needed, and neither of them would ever admit that – _if_ – they felt anything for the other. It would give the other man the advantage and a weakness to manipulate.

Once Wesker was sure his fingers were thoroughly lubricated, he withdrew them from Chris's mouth and knelt between the brunette's legs. Chris was laying on the bed, with his legs spread, breathing heavily at the anticipation of what was about to happen. He hadn't done anything like this with another man for years... Wesker had been the only man he had ever had sex with. There was something about doing it with any other man that would just put him off.

Wesker slid the first saliva soaked digit into Chris's entrance, and the other man's expression conveyed his discomfort. Had it been ten years ago, it was likely that Wesker would've uttered a few soothing words to the brunette – but Chris had been younger then. He had been younger and... innocent. Now he was older and more experienced. Chris had changed over the years, becoming more serious and more independent. When Wesker slid a second digit into the brunette, Chris grunted and gripped the bedsheets, throwing his head back with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Wesker curled his fingers over, searching for the bundle of nerves that would stop the grimace on the brunette's face.

Chris shuddered and groaned when Wesker managed to hit the spot, and Wesker slid a third digit into him, making sure that the brunette would be fully stretched to accommodate his size. He scissored his fingers and Chris grunted, bucking his hips.

Wesker chuckled as he removed his fingers and lined himself up with Chris's entrance, knowing that the experience was likely to be a lot more painful for Chris than before – he could tell when he had prepped the other man that he hadn't been fucked for years – probably not since Wesker had betrayed S.T.A.R.S.

He pushed the head of his erection into Chris's entrance and the other man gripped the bedsheets tighter, trying to stop any tears from leaking out from behind his eyelids – even though he was willingly taking it from the other man, he wasn't going to let Wesker get any sort of sadistic pleasure out of knowing how much it actually _hurt_. Wesker pushed deeper into the other man, groaning at the tight heat around his length.

Chris mumbled and gritted his teeth.

"What was that?" Wesker asked, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"Move..." Chris grunted.

Wesker cupped a hand around his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch –"

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, MOVE!"

Wesker was surprised by Chris's demand he couldn't even taunt the other man by forcing him to say "please" and grabbed the other man's hips, thrusting into the brunette. Chris groaned and relaxed, allowing the older man to move inside him easier. Wesker was gripping Chris's hips so tight that the brunette would definitely have impressive bruises. He pounded into the man underneath him, finally able to let himself go – he had never really indulged after betraying S.T.A.R.S. There had been a few times when he would surrender himself to Excella for a while, but that was only to make sure she stayed. He had never felt anything for the woman.

He could feel Chris's walls tightening around him, and he knew that the other didn't have long to go. He began to stroke Chris's arousal in time with his thrusts, determined to bring the brunette to his climax before or at the same time as when he finished. When Chris came, it was with a loud groan and over Wesker's hand and his own stomach. Wesker grunted as he released inside the other man, breathing heavily.

Chris collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for air as Wesker slowly pulled out and crawled back over to his side of the bed, pulling the sheets back up around him. Chris propped himself up on his elbows, watching the other man.

Was that it?

Just a quick fuck and then to sleep?

Chris laid down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't be bothered to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to clean himself up, even though he knew that sleep wasn't going to come easy for him.

**A/N: Well I hope that was up to everyone's satisfaction. I'm sure CarEKaos is very pleased, considering she has been threatening me to finish this chapter – this probably wouldn't be uploaded today if not for her.**

**I suppose that I should go and do some college work now that priority number one is out of the way... or I could procrastinate for another hour or so :D**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews and favourites, you lovely, lovely people! I hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.**

**Just a quick note... I am not a car thief, and I am not planning on becoming one. If my description of Chris stealing a car is incorrect, then it is due to my lack of experience in that area (The most experience I have is watching action films involving car stealing). If I am corrected on this, I will probably wonder how you know how to steal a car in so much detail and then change my description (after calling the police :p).**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Seven**

"Get up." Wesker snapped, throwing a bag of clothes at the brunette who was still fast asleep – well, not anymore.

Chris rubbed his head, scowling, and looked up at the fully clothed and pristine man standing over him. "How long have you been awake?"

"An hour." Wesker said. "And in that time I've managed to steal you a new set of clothes – get dressed and find us a new car whilst I steal some clothes for myself. I want to go to the other wing of the building – no-one on this side had anything that I would ever wear."

"You're such a fag." Chris muttered under his breath. The next thing he knew, he was being pinned to the bed with Wesker's hand wrapped around his throat.

"Oh, _really_, Chris?" Wesker snarled, knowing that if he slipped – or applied a bit more pressure – he would crush Chris's windpipe. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the one who decided to lay down and _take it_?"

Chris's hands scrabbled at Wesker's arms, trying to get the blonde to loosen the grip on his throat. "Wesker... I..." He hadn't meant it in a malicious way – he had meant it as common slang, a friendly insult and a joke related to Wesker's pompous attitude towards clothing. He had forgotten that this was a man whose idea of a joke was pointing a gun in someone's face.

"You what?" Wesker asked, releasing his hold on Chris's throat. "I admire you, Chris."

Chris ran a hand over his neck, knowing that it was likely to bruise – Wesker hadn't exactly been gentle. "What? Why?"

"Even when you're staring into the face of death, you never beg for your life." Wesker explained, kneeling up over Chris. "You either show what people like to call 'courage', or what I like to call foolishness. I haven't quite made up my mind."

"I've stared down the barrel of a gun before, Wesker. I've stood my ground in the dark against your monsters and I've seen good men and women die in front of me." Chris said, pushing himself upwards, wincing. "If there's one thing I've learnt, it's that begging never works." _Especially not where you're concerned._

"A valuable life lesson." Wesker said. He shook his head – it was conversations like these he always tried to avoid. "Now get dressed – I need you to steal the car I found for us."

"What?" Chris asked, sitting bolt upright and instantly regretting it. His muscles _screamed_ in protest at the sudden movement – let alone the fact he was moving. From experience, he should have known that after last night all he wanted to do was lay in bed, moving as little as possible.

"Oh, did that hurt?" Wesker asked. "Really Chris, why did you try to sit up so quick?"

"I am not stealing a car!" Chris snapped. "You said you had picked it out – why didn't you steal it?"

"Because I was coming back here." Wesker answered. "That would have made loads of sense – stealing a car and then returning to the building to steal even more items from some of the occupants of the motel."

"Alright, no need to be sarcastic." Chris sighed, grabbing the bag of clothes Wesker had thrown at him, wincing again.

"I'll meet you in fifteen minutes." Wesker said.

"What kind of car am I even looking for?" Chris called after him as he headed for the door.

"There's a silver sports car at the far end of the car park." Wesker said, placing his hand on the door handle. "It's fast and we need to get out of here soon – oh, and grab the satnav out of the taxi otherwise I won't know where I'm going."

"Is that all of your demands, or would you like me to polish your shoes too?" Chris snarled.

"Well, if you're offering..." Wesker shrugged and disappeared out of the room.

Chris muttered under his breath and reached into the bag, pulling out the clothes Wesker had stolen for him. "Oh God, no..." It seemed as though Wesker – although not wanting to kill Chris yet – had every intention of humiliating him and reminding him of their shared past. The blonde had stolen him what must have been the tightest pair of jeans ever made and an equally tight shirt, just like Chris had worn to the S.T.A.R.S Halloween Party one year when Chris had dressed as a cowboy. Of course, Wesker had never dressed up, seeing it as degrading and childish.

Slowly, Chris began to get dressed, regretting the events of the night before. He knew that he was going to be sore for the next couple of days, and had no idea why he had allowed the blonde man to use him like that. He stood up off the bed, using the wall to support himself as he headed for the door to the room. Wesker truly was a sadist if he expected Chris to retrieve the satnav from the taxi _and_ steal a new car after rough – rough _unprotected_ sex.

"Oh shit." Chris snarled, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. He had no idea whether Wesker was clean – for all he knew, the blonde had thrown his common sense away with the rest of his humanity and given up on basic precautions... and they had been in Africa. Wesker may not have been careful, due to his 'high and mighty' personality. Hell, due to his mutation Wesker might even have some sort of odd disease passed on through sexual intercourse. Trying not to overreact, Chris decided that he would ask Wesker later, if the man was in a reasonable mood – which meant that he could be waiting a long time.

He limped out of the motel, nodding and smiling to the girl behind the reception desk. He groaned when he saw the size of the car park – why did Wesker have to pick the car right at the far end? He stopped by the banged up taxi they had driven in from New York and opened the front door, taking the satnav off of the front window. Chris stood up as tall as he could, scanning the car park for a silver sports car.

There was no silver sports car.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..." Chris sighed, running his fingers through his knotted hair. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now – all he knew was that he had to find a car for him and Wesker to get in so that they could go to whatever unknown destination Wesker was driving to. He was sore, he was tired and he was hungry. "Fuck this."

There was a pick-up truck parked next to the taxi, which was shielding most of it from view from the motel lobby. Chris looked around for something to smash the pick-up window with. He didn't want to search the rest of the car park for another car when there was a perfectly good vehicle parked next to him. Unfortunately, the motel owners kept their car park spotless, so there wasn't even a decent sized rock for him to pick up.

In the end, he settled for shoving the satnav into the pocket of his jeans and stripping off the shirt Wesker had given him and wrapping it around his fist. He was startled by a rather loud wolf-whistle, and turned around to see a Hen Party all piling into a limo that was parked nearby. Chris grinned and waved at the women, and then mentally slapped himself. He had to stay focused on what he was doing. He made sure no-one was looking, and that the Hen Party were distracted by the limo's speaker system before punching the car window. The glass smashed and Chris looked around nervously, making sure he hadn't attracted any attention.

He unwrapped the shirt from his hand and pulled it on, just as Wesker walked over to him.

The blonde was now dressed in a white shirt, a black jacket and a pair of black jeans with his sunglasses covering his eyes. He was grimacing and carrying the stolen gun and the pair of handcuffs in his hands.

"It's a bit early to have your shirt off, isn't it?" Wesker raised an eyebrow as Chris began to do up the buttons. He ignored the cat calls from the Hen Party, and the comments about 'preferring blondes'.

"Can you hot wire the car, or do I need to steal the keys too?" Chris asked, taking the handcuffs from Wesker, already knowing that he would be asked to put them on again.

"I've got the keys for the sports car." Wesker said, jangling the car keys in front of Chris's face. "Which brings me to asking why you're smashing the window of this pick-up...?"

"I couldn't find the sports car."

"It's right down there!" Wesker pointed to a car parked at the far end of the car park.

"Well I didn't see it." Chris shrugged. "And that one is way too noticeable. Just get in the pick-up truck."

Wesker clicked the safety off on the gun. "Giving me orders now? I don't think that's very smart, Chris."

"Look, it's better than nothing and we're already pushing time enough." Chris said, clapping the handcuffs onto his wrists. "So can you stop being such a fa – picky bastard and get in the car?"

Wesker glared at the other man. "Fine. But you're lucky I know how to hotwire a car."

"That doesn't actually surprise me." Chris said, walking around the other side of the pick-up and climbing into the front. By the time he had sat down and struggled with his seatbelt Wesker had successfully hotwired the car.

Wesker lifted a Stetson off the dashboard and placed it on Chris's head. "Here, have this. It would distract me while I'm driving."

"What the –?" Chris asked and removed the cowboy hat from his head as Wesker began to manoeuvre the vehicle out of the parking bay. Chris threw the hat into the back of the pick-up and turned on the radio.

_"... Today the weather is going to be bright and sunny, but with a chill in the air. Anyone out and about is advised to wrap up warm and take an umbrella."_ A woman's voice came over the pick-up radio. _"Now, news headlines in your area: A thirty-one year old man was stabbed outside a bar last night..."_

"It seems as though New York haven't contacted anyone yet." Wesker said, changing up a gear. He was so relieved that he no longer had to drive an automatic – he liked to be in full control of the car. "The BSAA have probably found out that I'm still alive and are trying to keep it quiet. We can probably expect several helicopter patrols in the area, looking for a New York taxi."

"Yeah, hopefully they'll catch you and I'll be able to get my life back." Chris scowled, fidgeting in his seat and staring out of the window.

"Aren't you having fun?" Wesker asked. "Come on, Chris. You can't be that desperate to get away from me or you would've run away this morning – I did leave you on your own to steal a car. Didn't you think of any escape plans?"

"I'm not exactly in a fit state to run away, Wesker." _And I need to find out if you've done anything to me._

"Oh yes, I almost forgot." Wesker smirked. "You can't walk without a limp at the moment, can you?"

Chris grunted and turned his attention to the landscape speeding past. "Can you tell me where we're going yet?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You can't ruin my plan if you don't know what it is."

"Tch. When has that ever worked for you?"

"Chris, maybe you should remember who holds the power in this vehicle – you are sitting in the passenger seat with your hands cuffed together. I am sitting in the driver's seat and I am also in possession of a gun. I have the ability to heal any injuries I receive, whereas you do _not._ If I were you, I would be careful what I say next."

Chris ignored the blonde man, fidgeting in his seat again. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"I already told you, I have something else in store for you."

"Was last night part of it?"

Wesker was puzzled – sometimes Chris's train of thought made no sense to him, like when the brunette had mentioned the Arklay Mountains during their confrontation yesterday. "What do you mean by that?"

Chris looked away. "Never mind." _Even if I did ask he wouldn't tell me._

"You can talk to me, Chris." Wesker said. "If you have a problem then it's better to tell me now before we come to blows again – I would hate for anything terrible to happen to you." There was a sinister and ironic element to Wesker's statement, but Chris ignored it. It seemed that the blonde was baiting him. Chris knew that Wesker would rather it become a fistfight later on just so he had the opportunity to put Chris back in his place.

"I just..." Chris sighed – he may as well get it over with. "Is anything going to happen to me because of last night?"

"You need to be more precise than that, Chris." Wesker rolled his eyes. "What exactly do you mean by 'anything'?"

"I don't know how your whole... thing... works." Chris wrinkled his nose. "But... you were in Africa, and you were doing experiments and things, and I don't know how careful you were and –"

"Get to the point."

"I was just about to!" Chris snapped. "Look – I just want to know if you... it is possible that I could've caught _anything_ from you?"

Wesker turned to face Chris. "Are you implying that I'm unclean?"

"I'm just checking, Wesker!" Chris scowled, really wishing that he could fold his arms. Having his hands cuffed together for long periods of time was uncomfortable. "You weren't exactly concerned about protection last night!"

"How could you even suggest that about me?" Wesker asked, shaking his head in disgust as he turned his attention back to the road. "And in response to your question I am _completely_ clean. You aren't going to catch any diseases from me – I hope I can say the same about you, Chris. You were also in Africa."

"I wasn't experimenting on people!"

"What kind of experiments do you think I performed?" Wesker asked in outrage.

"I don't know – you are a pretty sick fucker."

"Oh, really? What else do you want to say, Chris?" Wesker asked, pulling the gun out of his belt and aiming it at the brunette. "Go on, why don't you say everything to me? If you keep pushing me then _I will kill you_, Chris, other plans for you be damned."

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_" Chris held his hands up as best as he could. "Wesker, put the gun down!"

"Or what?" Wesker demanded, taking the safety off with a 'click'. "Or what? Are you going to try and stop me? We both know that I'm faster and stronger than you – go ahead and try."

"I know I won't be able to stop you." Chris said. "My hands are cuffed together anyway. Just... just lower the gun, please."

Wesker eyed the brunette warily as he pointed the gun away, flicked the safety back on and then shoved the gun back into his belt. _A year ago I wouldn't have hesitated to pull the trigger._ Wesker thought to himself. _It's just because I have another plan for him._

**A/N: Oh no! Wesker nearly lost his composure :O**

**Don't worry about the Hen Party. They'll show up again later (much to Wesker's dismay) and if everything goes to plan...**

**Not sure when the next chapter will be up, seeing as I **_**should**_** be concentrating on coursework.**

**Any comments or feedback are more than welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this update, and thank you to all of those wonderfully patient people who are sticking with this story! Beta read by the wonderful CarEKaos.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Eight**

_ "Follow the road ahead."_

Chris sighed and slumped in his seat. He didn't know how long he and Wesker had been driving now, but it had started raining a few minutes ago. He watched as the drops pelted the windscreen before being cleaned away by the wipers. Chris turned up the radio as a song he vaguely knew the words to started to play. Wesker shot a dirty look at the radio, and then at Chris. He didn't see any of this as music – it was just noise, and it was starting to give him a headache.

"Chris, can you turn that off?"

"Why?" Chris asked, turning to look at Wesker.

"It's annoying me."

"It's good music!"

Wesker frowned and shook his head. "I wouldn't even class this as music, let alone good. It's just a group of people who came together to make a racket and want to have teenage girls screaming and throwing their selves at them. It's an easy way to make money."

"Wow, I would've thought that you would be right in there with the whole money thing – you're not exactly 'Mr Moral'." Chris said, leaning back as he rested one of his feet on the dashboard. "How many bank accounts do you have?"

"None at the moment." Wesker said, turning to look at Chris. He scowled at the brunette, and Chris removed his foot. "I can't access any of my accounts, Chris, but I can access this man's." He pulled a black leather wallet out of his pocket and dropped it on Chris's lap.

"Let me guess – the guy you stole the car keys from?"

"Of course. He had rather good taste in most things." Wesker said. "There's plenty of cash in there and several cards. We should be fine until we reach the border, but then we'll probably have to steal from someone else – I don't want anyone to track us."

"Does that mean we'll need a new car too?"

"I would prefer to have a new car before the border."

"Hold on – you keep mentioning a border." Chris said, his brow furrowing. "Are we going to Canada or something?"

A – Was that a smile? Well, whatever it was it touched the blonde man's lips. "We might be."

"You aren't gonna be specific with me, are you?"

"No." The smile almost – almost – grew.

Chris settled back into his worn seat, trying to think of the last time he had actually seen Wesker smile. Normally the blonde's expression would be neutral, with the occasional smirk depending on what was happening. The last time Wesker had probably smiled was when they were back in S.T.A.R.S, probably when Chris had won the Raccoon City Marksman Tournament soon after he had joined the force. When Chris had won, Wesker had been proud because it was _his_ marksman who had won, and it proved he had chosen the very best to join his S.T.A.R.S team.

"Do you remember that?" Chris asked quietly.

Wesker sighed. "I can't keep up with your train of thought, Chris. I don't know what goes on in your head. What am I supposed to remember?"

"The marksman tournament in Raccoon City." Chris urged. "I won it."

"Chris, I saw you compete in hundreds of tournaments."

"It was just after I joined S.T.A.R.S. You entered me into it and when it came to the day I didn't want to compete. We had that really big argument." Chris said.

"We've had plenty of arguments, Chris – and most of them have been 'really big'." Wesker said, glancing up at the satnav. "What makes you think I remember every single one of them? I wouldn't be able to remember anything else."

"It was one of the only times you ever acted like you cared."

xXx

_ "I can't do it!"_

_ "Don't be ridiculous, of course you can." Wesker said, placing a hand on Chris's shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze. "All you have to do is go out there and hit the targets. I've seen you do it a million times before, Chris. How is this any different?"_

_ "Have you seen who's sitting out there?" Chris jerked away from Wesker and pointed to the door which led out onto the shooting range. "The Station Commander of the USAF base where I was posted is out there watching. If I had known he was going to be here I would've said no from the start!"_

_ "Chris, this isn't going to be any different to any of the other times." Wesker said. "You just have to go out there and you have to aim at the targets. If you don't hit them, then you don't hit them. That doesn't matter, Chris. You're either going to win this tournament or lose it."_

_ "And what if I lose it?"_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "If I lose do I get kicked off the team?" Chris asked. "You always say that you want the best, sir. I won't be the best if I lose."_

_ Wesker stepped towards the marksman and slapped a hand onto his shoulder. "I never would've picked you if I didn't know you were the best. Don't give me a reason to doubt myself, Redfield."_

_ "Oh, I see how it is."_

_ "Pardon?"_

_ "I'm not allowed to give you a reason to doubt _yourself_, nevermind me." Chris spat. "I can't go out there and lose, Wesker. It would be too embarrassing. But you don't have to worry about that. All you have to worry about is how you're going to replace me with the winner." The brunette turned to leave._

_ "Hold on –" He reached out and grabbed Chris's arm._

_ Chris turned around. "What?"_

_ "I know you can win, Chris."_

_ "Wow, thanks Wesker." Chris snapped. "Because what you know and what you don't know really makes a difference. I'll be sure to tell the judges."_

xXx

"Why do you remember things like this?" Wesker asked.

"I don't know." Chris shrugged. "I just do – it's not like I really want to."

"It's like in your apartment – you've kept all of your belongings from when you were in the Air Force." Wesker said.

"How do you –"

"I went through your things." Wesker said. "Anyway, why would you keep something like that? Why would you keep so many items that would remind you of the time that you were shot down and humiliated by your superiors?"

"I can't even begin to explain this to you." Chris sighed. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not... you're not like people." Chris insisted, turning to face Wesker. He was searching for the words he could use to explain 'feelings' to Wesker. How was he supposed to explain nostalgia and how people and places mattered most to humans, when the man he was sitting with wasn't even _human_ anymore? "You're... _you_."

"I fail to understand what you're trying to say."

"Are you going to hit me if I say something you don't like?"

"Probably." Wesker said without taking his eyes off the road. "It's a risk you'll have to take."

"I just..." Chris hesitated and closed his eyes. "Most people like to keep reminders of their past, Wesker. Most people like to feel nostalgic – they like to look back on their lives and see where they've come from. They like to remember their family and friends and how they've gotten where they are now." Chris ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a deep sigh. "I kept my stuff from the Air Force because I had wanted to do that for so long... I had always wanted to be a pilot. Everytime I see that stuff in that box in my wardrobe I can tell myself I did it."

"So you kept your Air Force uniform, your dog tags and pictures of your unit to remind you that you had succeeded at something?"

"They weren't just my unit, Wesker. They were my friends."

Wesker's brow furrowed. "You were kicked out of the Air Force though. Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Because it helped to make me who I am now." Chris said. "From the Air Force I went to S.T.A.R.S and then... well, you know the rest of the story from there. You were part of it."

"I still don't understand what you're trying to say to me."

"That's because you've never cared about your life and how you got to where you are." Chris said. "All you care about is getting what you want. You don't have a sense of nostalgia or affection."

"I don't see little things like that as important." Wesker said, looking over the brim of his sunglasses at Chris. "The only thing that's important is where I am now and what's going to happen in the future. The past can't be changed, but the future can. We are the ones who write the future. It's ours to decide."

"How do you know?" Chris asked. "How do you know that there isn't some sort of higher power that's made us how we are?"

"No-one can create perfection, Chris."

Chris scoffed. "Except for you, right?"

The blonde man ignored him and re-adjusted his sunglasses to hide his eyes from the brunette. Chris noticed the subtle movement and raised an eyebrow at the other man. He decided not to say anything, knowing that Wesker would probably get defensive over the action... and it would eventually lead to confrontation and then Chris would probably have a broken nose and Wesker would be brandishing his gun like some sort of hotshot cowboy.

xXx

"We need food." Chris said, jumping down from the truck bed, careful to make sure he didn't land and fall over – he really had to talk to Wesker about trust and how he shouldn't have to wear the handcuffs anymore. It was obvious that he wasn't going to run away.

"I told you to look in the truck bed." Wesker sighed, leaning against the pick-up truck. They had stopped for a driving break, and because Chris had been complaining that he was hungry. _He isn't the only one._ Wesker thought, placing a hand over his stomach and hoping that Chris couldn't hear the grumbling.

"I did." Chris grimaced, holding up a carrier bag full of empty beer cans, old sandwiches and half eaten packets of crisps. "I don't know about you, but I don't really want to get ill... and God only knows what's been done to this." He threw the carrier bag to the floor at Wesker's feet.

Wesker wrinkled his nose in disgust and took a small step away. "I wouldn't even think about touching that."

"Exactly." Chris said. "We have to find somewhere to get some food. There must be a service station on this road somewhere."

Wesker reached into the car through the broken window and picked the satnav up off the dashboard. He tapped the screen a couple of times, and then placed it back down.

"Well?" Chris asked.

"What?" Wesker asked.

"Did you find a service station?"

"Where?"

"On the satnav."

"I wasn't looking for one." Wesker said. "I was seeing how much longer we have until we reach our destination – it's half an hour to the border and then we don't have too far after that."

"So we're going to Canada?"

"Maybe."

"What the –? You can't deny it Wesker! You said we're going to the border and then it isn't too far to wherever the hell you're taking me!" Chris protested. "Just tell me – are we going to Canada?"

"Yes. We are."

"Finally, a solid answer!" Chris said, throwing his hands up in the air. He turned to face the blonde man. "I don't know what kind of crazy shit you're planning, but I hope you know it's pretty difficult to get across the Canadian border when you're on the run from the law."

"We'll manage."

"Really?" Chris asked. "How the hell are we going to do that? Outrun the dogs? Shoot everyone working there? Jump the barrier? Get in a helicopter and hope that no-one blows us out of the sky as we're flying over?"

"I'll figure it out."

"When, Wesker?" Chris asked. "We'll be there in half an hour and you'll have to think pretty fast if you're going to come up with a whole plan to get into another country illegally!"

"Don't you have any faith in me, Chris?"

"No." Chris said. "I don't place my faith in anything anymore. I haven't for a long time."

"That's something we have in common."

"I don't want to have anything in common with you."

Wesker sighed and climbed back into the pick-up. He leant out of the window. "We have more in common than you would like to think, Chris. Now – are you going to get in the pick-up so we can find somewhere to get some food or are you just going to stand there and wait for me to drag you in here?"

"I'm coming." Chris sighed and walked around to the other side of the pick-up. He climbed in beside Wesker and looked at the other man. Wesker was sitting in the driver's seat with his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "Wesker?"

The man's eyes snapped open and he started the car. "What?"

"Are you tired?"

He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. "No."

"Are you sure? Because you look a little bit –"

"I'm not tired." Wesker cut him off.

"Y'know, sometimes it's okay for you to act human." Chris said quietly as they pulled out of the lay-by. He wasn't sure if he was going a step too far, but he knew that he had to say something to the other man. As much as Wesker refused to believe it, he wasn't invincible. "No matter what you keep saying, you are human. You can't run yourself down like this."

"If I had wanted a caring opinion I would've paid someone to say what I wanted to hear."

"What are you going to do about it? Fire me?" Chris joked.

"No." Wesker said, the corners of his mouth threatening to curve upwards into a smile. "I'm just going to ignore you – I know that's going to annoy you even more."

"... You're a jerk."

"You're childish."

"Oh, and you're not?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not even going to continue this argument – it's pathetic." Wesker said.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but decided against using his comeback when Wesker pulled the gun from his belt and pointed it at the brunette. Chris closed his mouth and slumped in his seat, settling for staring out of the window.

Wesker smiled and holstered the gun.

**A/N: I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up – I've got a pretty heavy workload with coursework at the moment, so I'll try to write small sections of this when I'm taking a break from work, but I've been so distracted lately with other projects.**

**Any comments or feedback is very much appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Have I ever mentioned how wonderful you all are? I can't believe all of the feedback I've had on this story... I love all of you! *gives big bag of cyber cookies***

**This chapter was up a lot sooner than I thought and I still managed to get all of my homework done today! Woot woot!**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil. **__**I only own the waitress in the fast food restaurant.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Nine**

"Why did you do that?" Chris asked.

"The radio was annoying me." Wesker replied. "The presenter was most uncharismatic, and the music wasn't any better – I would rather just listen to static."

"It was chart music Wesker – the music that _normal_ people like." Chris sighed rolling his eyes. "What do you listen to? I bet you listen to classical; full of violins, organs and trumpets and all that kind of shit."

"And what, exactly, have you based that assumption on?" Wesker asked, turning his head to face Chris.

"It was just a guess." Chris shrugged. "I was joking – oh wait, you're the guy who can't take a joke. Of course you're not going to understand what I'm saying."

Wesker sighed and turned his attention back to the road. There was no point in getting into a fight – they were both tired and hungry, and they had been on the road for too long – an accident and a diversion had added another hour onto their journey to the border. "Why have I suddenly become the subject of all of your frustration?"

"I don't know, maybe it's because you _kidnapped_ me?"

"... And you've seemed relatively fine with it for the whole of the journey up until now."

Chris spluttered. "_Fine_? You think I'm _'fine with it'_? I didn't have any other choice! You're a lunatic with a gun! I know it seems odd saying this considering that I've been fighting against _you_ for my whole life, but I do enjoy being alive!"

"Oh, I'm a lunatic?" Wesker asked, pulling the gun out of his belt. "If anyone is a lunatic, Chris, then it is you."

"What the –? How am _I_ a lunatic?" Chris demanded. "I'm not the one who keeps trying to destroy the world!"

"You're the one who trusted me in the first place." Wesker said. "You're the one who willingly laid down and let me fuck you."

"SON OF A –" Chris snarled and punched Wesker in the jaw, just as Wesker aimed the gun at Chris.

xXx

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm really not." Wesker said, leaning against the side of the pick-up.

"You shot me in the fucking hand!" Chris raged, holding his injured hand as he hunched forwards in pain. "Are you sure there isn't any water in the truck?"

"Well, I did find a half-empty bottle under the front seat... but it was warm." Wesker frowned.

"It's better than nothing!" Chris hissed. "Just get me the water!"

"Say please."

"_Please_ get me the God damned water." Chris growled, gritting his teeth together. He wouldn't give the other man the satisfaction of seeing how much pain he really was in.

"Very well." Wesker sighed, opening the driver's side door and climbing into the front of the pick-up truck. He emerged a few moments later, holding a battered plastic bottle. "I doubt a half-empty bottle of water is going to do much for your hand – and you don't know what might be... who might've drunk from it before."

"It's better than nothing." Chris insisted, holding out his hand as Wesker unscrewed the cap on the bottle. "And why do you keep saying its half-empty? It could be half-full."

Wesker shot the other man a disapproving look. "We are not having this debate."

"Why, because it would be _fun_?" Chris asked.

"Do you want me to shoot your other hand?"

"No, not really." Chris said, taking a large intake of breath as Wesker began to pour the water on his wounded hand.

"Does it hurt?"

"Do you _really_ need to ask that?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"No..." Wesker smirked. "But seeing you in this much pain is quite satisfying. Call it revenge for all of the punches you keep throwing at me."

"What, so this is supposed to be karma?"

"I don't believe in karma." Wesker said bluntly.

"You don't believe in anything." Chris muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"We're not having this conversation again." Wesker sighed, shaking his head. He crushed the empty bottle of water and threw it over his shoulder. "Well, there's no more water. You'll have to wait until we find somewhere to stop – there should be a diner or something somewhere around here. We can get some food too."

"They'll have a first aid kit, won't they?"

"Chris, we're in America – we're not in some backward country with no civilisation." Wesker rolled his eyes. "Of course someone's going to have a first aid kit."

"Yeah, and hopefully they won't ask too many questions." Chris grumbled. "Last time I checked it wasn't normal for random travellers to walk into restaurants asking about first aid kits whilst complaining about being shot in the hand."

"It was a hunting accident."

"No-one is going to believe that, Wesker."

"I'd like to see you do better."

"Just wait until we stop somewhere."

xXx

"Do you have a first aid kit?" Chris asked, dashing up to the counter in the fast food restaurant, still clutching his hand. He had resorted to tearing a strip from the lining of his shirt and wrapping it around his hand to try and stop the bleeding whilst they were driving.

"Erm, yeah, we do." The waitress said, blinking at Chris. "What did you do to your hand?"

"I got shot."

Her eyes widened.

"Don't worry! It was a hunting accident!"

"Oh... erm... okay..." The waitress said, stepping back from the counter. "I'll be right back... I'll go and get the first aid kit for you. Do you want to go into the bathroom and wash your hand? I think we've got some antiseptic wipes somewhere too..."

"Thank you." Chris nodded and headed for the bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wesker walk into the fast food restaurant and follow him into the bathroom. He unwrapped the strip of fabric from around his hand and turned on the hot tap.

"So, what excuse did you use?" Wesker asked, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

"... The hunting accident." Chris mumbled, hissing as he ran his hand under the tap. "Don't even – you don't need to say anything, okay?"

"Did she believe you?" Wesker asked.

"I think so."

"Are you going to admit that I was right?"

"Are you going to shoot me again if I don't?"

Wesker's lips twitched into a smirk. "Perhaps."

"You were right, Wesker." Chris sighed. "The waitress believed that my hand was shot in a hunting accident. Are you happy now?"

"Yes... but only for now."

There was a knock at the door and Wesker opened it, revealing the waitress who had been behind the fast food restaurant counter. She held the first aid kit up to Wesker who took it from her and closed the door again. He turned to Chris, holding the first aid kit.

"Do you trust me enough to let me bandage your hand?"

"It'll be difficult for me to do it myself." Chris said, hopping up onto the bathroom counter, managing to sit in between two of the sinks. "You can patch up a bullet wound, right?"

"I'll do my best."

"Wait – what do you mean you'll 'do your best'?" Chris asked in alarm.

"I've never had any experience with patching up bullet wounds." Wesker explained. "Bullet wounds have never really bothered me – I just heal myself." He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and looked up at Chris. "I'll take every precaution, just in case either of us are _unclean_."

"It's a bit late then, isn't it?" Chris asked with a scowl. He sucked in his breath as Wesker began to clean the wound with antiseptic wipes.

"Chris – it was just sex." Wesker said. "It wasn't anything you hadn't done before, and let's be honest; this is _me_. After all the years that you have known me do you really think I would stop taking care of myself?" Wesker asked, picking up a roll of bandage and a pair of scissors. "I can assure you that I am _completely_ clean."

"I was just being cautious." Chris said quietly. "I don't know what you do anymore, Wesker. Sometimes I look at you and I just... it doesn't seem like we ever knew each other at all. Sometimes I feel like –"

"Is this bandage too tight?" Wesker asked coldly, tying off the ends of the bandages.

"Yes!" Chris said through gritted teeth.

"Well you'll just have to deal with it." Wesker said, packing up the first aid kit and walking out of the bathroom.

Chris watched Wesker leave, wondering if they would ever be able to interact normally. He was starting to question himself why he hadn't run away at every opportunity given to him – and there had been plenty. He had been telling himself that he hadn't tried to leave because he knew Wesker would catch him, and Wesker was the one holding the gun. Now he was... he was starting to think that there might be other motives for him staying.

That night... Wesker hadn't explained anything. There hadn't really been any words between them. Just Wesker checking that Chris wanted to do it, a quick fuck and then the blonde had just rolled over and _gone to sleep_.

Chris wasn't sure what he had been expecting. It wasn't teary confessions of love – because they weren't in love, not at all – and it wasn't even anything remotely romantic. What he really wanted was for Wesker to acknowledge that he was still human – that he wasn't above everyone. He wasn't a God. He was still a human being who could think and even... sometimes... he could feel. He wasn't a robot.

He walked out of the bathroom and scanned the fast food restaurant for Wesker. The blonde man was nowhere in sight, and Chris walked up to the counter, to the same waitress who had been so helpful to them that night. "Have you seen my friend anywhere?"

"Oh, he gave back the first aid kit and then walked out of the fast food restaurant." The waitress said.

"Thank you." Chris nodded and walked out of the fast food restaurant, over to where they had parked the pick-up truck.

Wesker was sitting in the front of the pick-up with two brown paper bags, which Chris guessed contained food. He climbed into the cab beside Wesker, and the blonde man threw the pair of handcuffs at him.

"I'm not exactly a threat with a bullet hole in my left hand."

"I don't care." Wesker growled, throwing one of the brown paper bags at Chris. "I'm a careful person, Chris. I take every precaution necessary."

Chris rolled his eyes.

Great.

Wesker was in a bad mood.

He clipped the handcuffs onto his wrists and then – with difficulty – began to rummage in the brown paper bag. He pulled out a burger wrapped in a sheet of flimsy paper and unwrapped it, wolfing it down in a couple of bites. Wesker looked at him in disgust and picked at the packet of fries he was holding. He had never been keen on fast food, and he wasn't going to let Chris see that he was _starving_. He would regain his composure at all times, even though Chris was probably the only person who had ever seen him _lose it_.

"How far do you think it is until we reach the border?" Chris asked, breaking the silence.

"Not too far." Wesker replied.

"Have you figured out how we're going to get across yet?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No."

"Are you going to eat the rest of that?" Chris asked, looking hungrily at Wesker's left over food.

"No."

"Can I have it?"

"Are you _really_ so desperate that you're willing to eat my scraps?" Wesker asked.

"Wesker, you haven't even touched your burger."

"I guess that the answer is 'yes'." Wesker sighed and threw Chris the bag containing the remains of his meal. Chris dove into the bag and pulled out the burger, still not caring about manners. Wesker started the engine and pulled out of the car park.

**A/N: In the next chapter, Chris and Wesker will be trying to cross the American-Canadian border. I'm not sure when this will be up, due to other commitments, but I will try to make it as soon as possible.**

**They nearly spoke about feelings :O**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you so much... 55 reviews! You guys are so wonderful. I'm sorry for the late update, but I had that "Error Type 2" for about two weeks -_-**

**TO CANADA! 8'D**

**I know that this is probably not a very realistic way of Chris and Wesker to get past the USA-Canadian border, but I didn't want to make it too complicated.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil. ****I only own the Hen Party and the used car salesman. (Yes, they are back)**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Ten**

"I thought you said you had a plan!"

"I was working on a plan." Wesker said, leaning against the side of the pick-up. "I never said that I had one – you just assumed that I did because I never told you anything."

"And now we're in shit because you don't!" Chris fumed, throwing his hands up in the air. Due to the fact they were sitting on the American side of the border, possibly within sight of the border guards and other road users, Wesker had removed the brunette's handcuffs. "How the hell are we going to get across the border without any passports, when the whole of the USA thinks that we're wanted fugitives? Even though we haven't heard anything on the radio, I'm sure immigration control has been alerted to what we look like!"

"We'll get through the border, Chris."

"What the hell makes you think that?"

"Your friends from the motel are back." Wesker said, pointing to a limo that was parked nearby with several women standing next to it. "I'm sure they would help us get across the border."

"Wesker, they're on a Hen Party. They're not criminal masterminds!"

"Chris, never underestimate a woman." Wesker said grimly, walking to the front of the pick-up truck and opening the hood. He began to inspect what they actually had under the hood.

"I can't believe – I just can't believe that you're going through with this." Chris muttered, shaking his head. He knew that Wesker would never let himself be beaten, but this plan just seemed... it didn't seem _evil_ enough to be one of Wesker's plans.

Wesker came back and placed the cowboy hat from earlier on Chris's head.

"Why is this necessary?" Chris asked.

"They're all wearing them." Wesker answered, gesturing to the Hen Party with a nod of his head. "You blend in now."

"Funny guy." Chris muttered under his breath as Wesker started towards the Hen Party, almost dragging Chris along behind him. "Do you really think they're going to help us get across the border?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Wesker asked. "You saw how much attention they paid to us at the motel – I'm sure we can find a way to persuade them."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Wesker asked, his voice all fake innocence.

"I'm not even going to bother." Chris sighed as they stopped next to the limo. He felt Wesker's hand make contact with his back as the blonde man shoved him forwards.

"Uh... Hey, ladies." Chris said, trying to flash the most charming smile he was capable of. Being a pilot in the US Air Force meant that he wasn't exactly a stranger to chatting up women... Charisma was almost a qualification for the job, and being in uniform usually helped too.

The five members turned around to face the new arrivals.

"I remember you!" One of them squealed.

"Well, I'm not exactly hard to forget." Chris said, starting to feel more comfortable with the situation.

"No, not you!" The woman scowled, walking over to Wesker, who raised an eyebrow. "The blonde one!"

Chris's expression darkened.

"I'm afraid I don't remember you, my dear." Wesker said, subtly taking a step away. "It's probably more likely that you remember my friend."

"Not really." The woman said, smiling at Wesker. "I prefer blondes."

Chris was trying his hardest not to crack up laughing – was it possible that Wesker was actually _scared_ of these women who he had so easily factored into his plans?

"Well, we actually had a favour to ask you lovely ladies." Wesker said, retreating to standing beside Chris. He nudged the brunette with his arm.

"Huh?"

"Ask them." Wesker hissed, dropping his voice so that he wouldn't be heard. "Tell them the car keeps breaking down or something."

"Well, uh, ladies..." Chris started, removing the cowboy hat. "... My friend and I were wondering if you would be so kind as to let us join you crossing the border. Our car isn't very good, and it's broken down several times." He pointed to the parked pick-up, which was now... _smoking_ from under the hood? Whatever Wesker had done, it had clearly been some sort of sabotage – and he clearly had faith in the Hen Party taking them on board.

"Well girls, what do we think?" A blonde woman who seemed to be the 'leader of the group' turned around and asked, placing her hands on her hips. "Should we take these handsome strangers with us?"

The rest of the women nodded enthusiastically and cheered in agreement.

Wesker looked at Chris and raised an eyebrow. "See? I told you that this would work."

"Whatever." Chris said. "I call shotgun!"

xXx

"So, there are three drivers and five women?" The border guard asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's correct." The driver said. Chris was sat in the front next to the limo driver, and Wesker was sat in the back of the limo, surrounded by the five women who were on the trip.

"Why do you need three drivers?" The guard asked.

"The guy in the back is my relief driver." The limo driver said, gesturing to the back of the limo. "This guy next to me was the main driver, but I'm taking over from him – he's visiting his sick mother in Canada."

"Right." The border guard said. "I need to see your papers."

Wesker leant forwards, wedging his torso between the front seats. "You don't need to see our papers." He said, holding out a stack of passports, with three one hundred dollar bills slotted between them.

The border guard looked through the passports, and then picked up the money. He folded the notes and stuffed them into his pocket, before stepping back and lifting the barrier. "Have a great time in Canada!"

"What was that?" Chris asked. "Some sort of Jedi mind-trick?"

"Oh yeah! That's what it was like!" The driver said, high-fiving Chris.

"I beg your pardon?" Wesker asked, looking from Chris to the driver. "I have absolutely no idea what any of you are on about."

"Seriously?" The driver asked. He turned to look at Chris. "How has this guy not seen _Star Wars_?"

Chris leant closer to the driver and cupped a hand around his ear. "He doesn't like violence. He's a pacifist... and a bit of a woman – why do you think he didn't object to me calling shotgun? He likes to think of himself as one of the girls." Chris smirked, leaning back in the passenger seat. Even though Wesker hadn't heard his petty and childish insult, it felt good to know that he was able to get away with it without having a gun waved in his face.

"Chris?" Wesker asked, his voice all innocence.

Chris was wary – Wesker never spoke in that tone, unless he was planning on doing something horrible to someone. "Yes...?"

"Have you forgotten about my sensitive hearing?" Wesker growled.

"... Thanks for the reminder." Chris said, leaning back in the passenger seat. He had forgotten that Wesker was unable to take a joke, so it was likely that the other man was going to make him pay for his comment... in a very painful way.

"Well, I suggest that you don't forget again." Wesker murmured, making Chris shudder. The blonde disappeared into the back of the limo, and Chris heard the screams of excited women along with the sound of champagne bottles being opened.

xXx

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" One of the women in the Hen Party pouted, grabbing Wesker's arm. They had stopped at a used car garage so that Chris and Wesker could get their own car and be back on their way to... wherever Wesker had decided they were going. "There's always room in the limo for both of you... especially you, handsome..."

"I'm afraid that my friend and I have other business to attend to." Wesker said through gritted teeth. "I must say, that I'm sad to leave your... _wonderful_... company." He looked at Chris, who was standing a few metres away, talking to the limo driver. As soon as they were back on the road he was going to make the brunette pay.

Wesker eventually managed to pry himself away from the Hen Party and walked over to Chris, taking the satnav out of his pocket to check where they are. He ignored the catcalls from the limo as the Hen Party got back in, preparing to go on their way. "It's not too far now."

"Did you have fun?" Chris asked, waving as the limo drove away.

Wesker punched Chris in the face. The brunette had been expecting some sort of violent attack from Wesker, but not so soon. He fell to the ground, landing on his backside. "That's for calling shotgun."

"Thanks." Chris said, pushing himself back up onto his feet.

Wesker kicked him in the stomach, snarling. "And that's for everything else."

Chris fell back to the ground, clutching his stomach. He glared up at Wesker – he had been expecting the punch, and he could taste the blood from his split lip. The gut-punch had been completely unexpected. He had thought that being punched in the face would be satisfying enough for Wesker.

"Excuse me sir, is there a problem?" One of the salesman asked, walking over to where Wesker was standing over Chris.

Wesker turned to face the salesman, folding his arms. "No, there's no problem. I'm just putting him in his place."

"It's fine." Chris wheezed, trying to get his breath back. "I deserved it."

"Sure." The salesman said, raising his eyebrows. "Can I help you fellas?"

"We want to buy a car." Wesker said. "And we'll be paying with cash on the spot."

"Sounds a little shady if you ask me." The salesman scratched the back of his head. "But I ain't complaining – business is business. Come and take a look around the inventory."

"I was going to anyway." Wesker scoffed. "Chris, come on."

Chris slowly got his feet, clutching his stomach. "Fucking hell, Wesker. I know you're pissed off but there was no need to kick me."

"Yes, there was." Wesker smirked, following the salesman. "It made me feel better."

"Son of a bitch." Chris muttered, following behind Wesker.

The salesman stopped beside an old banged up Ford. "And this is our most recent acquisition – it's only done two hundred miles, and the previous owner only used it for short runs. This car just needs a good, long drive to burn out the engine."

"No." Wesker said.

"But you haven't heard the price."

"No." Wesker repeated. "We'll call upon you when we need assistance – clearly, you are incompetent and can't see that any man of my tastes would _ever_ be caught driving that pile of scrap. I can assure you, I am fully capable of picking out my own car."

The salesman glared at Wesker and walked away.

"Do you actually have any idea what you're looking for?" Chris asked.

"Chris, why do you always doubt me?" Wesker asked. "I do know how to pick out a decent car."

"I just doubt sometimes because... well... didn't you just pay people to do it for you before?" Chris sighed. "I know that you plan everything out and whatever, but... you're not... have you ever lived in the real world?"

Wesker patted himself down, frowning. "I'm quite sure that this is reality, Chris."

"That's not what I meant." Chris rolled his eyes. "I meant it like... have you ever done things for yourself? I can't imagine you going down to a car lot and picking out the one you like the best. You would have someone else to do it – you've always surrounded yourself with experts – people who know what they're doing. People you know are the best. I just... it just makes me wonder."

"Chris, it may seem that way to you, but I can assure you that I do mundane tasks just like you." Wesker said. "You say that I have people around me who do as I command – I did, but I don't know. I've always been prepared for being alone because I don't work with people. People are expendable – they make errors."

"You make errors too."

"It always comes back to my faults, doesn't it?" Wesker sighed.

"You have faults, Wesker." Chris said. "Everyone does. Of course I'm going to exploit them."

"Let's just find a car."

xXx

"Was that your stomach?"

Wesker tilted the driver's seat of the Saloon car they had 'brought'. Wesker had, in fact, given the salesman the money and then pick-pocketed him during the signing over of the car. Of course, once they had left Chris had decided to inflict moral judgement. They had stopped in a lay-by for the night, due to Wesker actually acknowledging that he was _tired_. "Go to sleep, Chris."

"You should've got something from the burger van earlier." Chris said in a sing-song 'I told you so' tone as he spread out on the backseat, trying to get comfortable despite the jangling of the handcuffs.

"I didn't fancy eating _road kill_." Wesker said, his voice full of venom.

"I'm sure it wasn't road kill, Wesker. You're just exaggerating."

The blonde ignored him and removed his sunglasses, placing them on the dashboard before closing his eyes and trying to sleep.

Chris watched him, waiting for Wesker's breathing to become softer and regulate. As soon as the blonde was asleep, he was going to take the stolen phone from Wesker's pocket – and the gun – and he would be the one calling the shots. He was determined to get some answers from Wesker.

He slowly sat upright, leaning into the front of the car. Wesker was obviously asleep, due to the small snores he was emitting. Chris reached down slowly, to the right hand pocket of Wesker's trousers. He bit his lip as he slid his hand inside, willing for the blonde not to wake up.

Success!

Chris withdrew his hand, holding the phone _and_ the key for the handcuffs. He tucked the phone in his own pocket before he stuck the key in his mouth and began to unlock the handcuffs. When he had managed, he shoved the handcuffs in his pocket and quietly climbed out of the car, walking over to the driver's door. He opened it as silently as he could, and slowly removed the gun from Wesker's belt. The blonde mumbled something in his sleep – making the brunette freeze – and turned his head the other way. Chris crouched down, and inspected Wesker's shoes, a grin forming on his face.

When he was done making sure that Wesker wouldn't be able to attack him – using the handcuffs as extra insurance – he closed the car door and walked away. Chris pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and typed in a number he had memorised.

_"Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is, jerk?"_

"Claire, it's Chris." He whispered, and glanced back at the car. "We need to talk about something."

**A/N: Yay new chapter!**

**Not sure when I'll have the next chapter done, but I will try to have it up soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews and favourites! This chapter was up a lot sooner than I expected, so I'm very pleased with that.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Warning:**** Smut! (Which I'm not entirely sure whether it's a warning or something to look forward to…)**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Eleven**

"_Chris what – where are you?"_ Claire asked, instantly sounding more awake. _"I've been worried sick! The police reports have been horrible – I've just had to sit here not knowing... where are you?"_

"Claire, I can't be on the phone for long." Chris said, glancing back at the car. He had no idea when Wesker was going to wake up – the blonde didn't sleep for extremely long hours, he tended to take short naps. "I just wanted to call and tell you that I'm fine. You don't have to worry about anything."

"_Where are you?"_

"I'm in Canada."

"_What the hell are you doing in Canada?"_ Claire asked.

"I can't talk about that right now."

"_Is it true... that you were kidnapped or whatever?"_ Claire asked uneasily. _"They gave a description of the suspect... and it sounds like Wesker."_

Chris hesitated. He wanted to tell his sister the truth about what had happened; that he had left New York with Wesker and was – technically – a hostage, but he didn't want her to worry. He didn't really see himself as a hostage. He and Wesker were closer than they had ever been, even when they were in S.T.A.R.S. "I'm on an assignment, Claire."

"_But the BSAA put you on leave."_

"Well... leave was cancelled." Chris sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Look, I have to go –"

There was the sound of a car door opening and then a loud thud as something – or someone – heavy fell to the floor. "Yes you do."

Chris cut off the phone call and turned around, spotting Wesker lying on the dusty ground looking _very_ angry. "I thought you would wake up soon."

"Chris! Untie these knots!" Wesker demanded, pointing to his shoes. The brunette had tied his shoelaces together whilst he had been sleeping – Wesker regretted that S.T.A.R.S recruits had been taught numerous ways to tie knots.

"I'm not taking orders from you." Chris said, pulling Wesker's stolen gun from his belt.

Wesker chuckled.

Chris raised an eyebrow and felt slightly self-conscious. He wasn't sure why the other man was laughing, but it couldn't be for a good reason. He resisted the urge to check if his flies were undone, because that would be embarrassing when he was trying to intimidate the man who scared the shit out of him nine times out of ten.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Wesker asked, shifting position to try and get more comfortable – it looked as though he was going to be on the ground for a while. "Well done, Chris. You've immobilised me with a schoolboy trick and you've taken my gun. Whatever are you going to do next?"

"I'm going to... I'm going to get us back to the border, and I'm going to tell the border guards who we are." Chris said. "I'm going to get them to call the police and then we're going back to America."

"And what if I refuse?" Wesker asked, looking up at the brunette. "You know me, Chris. You know that I'm not going to willingly agree to this – I'll fight you all the way to the border, even if you have tied my shoelaces together. That'll hold me off for however long it takes me to work out these knots and then _what_?"

Chris aimed the gun at Wesker, and he flicked off the safety on the gun. "I'm the one with the gun now, Wesker. I know that this won't kill you, but I'll be able to slow you down."

Wesker chuckled again and Chris knew that something was wrong – he wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that his plan wouldn't work.

"What's so funny?" Chris growled, tightening his finger on the trigger. "You're the one who's lying on the floor immobilised and I'm the one with my finger on the trigger – start talking."

"How are you going to make me, Chris?" Wesker asked. "You have nothing over me – _nothing_."

"I'll shoot." Chris warned.

"If you were going to shoot me you would've done it by now."

Chris rolled his eyes – he hated it when Wesker baited him, but if he didn't do anything Wesker would just push him even more, waiting to find his limits – waiting to see when Chris would snap. "You want me to shoot you? Fine." Chris pulled the trigger on the gun and blinked.

"Oh Chris, you can't even fire a gun."

"No – what?" Chris was confused. It was like there were no bullets in the gun. He pulled the trigger again, and there was just another 'click'. He opened up the magazine and threw the gun down on the ground beside Wesker, making the blonde chuckle.

"Didn't the thought ever cross your mind that I had used all of the bullets?" Wesker asked, smirking up at Chris. "I didn't bring any with me, Chris. All I had was what was in the gun to start with, and now there are none. You thought that we were even – you had a gun, I have my strength – but we're not even. We never will be."

xXx

"Where exactly did your brother say he was, Miss Redfield?"

Claire shuffled on the couch and crossed her legs. "He said that he was in Canada – I don't know how he got there though, because his passport was at his apartment."

"What else did your brother say?" The policeman asked.

"He told me that he was on an assignment – he works for the BSAA." Claire answered, trying to think of how Chris had sounded on the phone – he had been speaking in a hushed tone, and as though he had very little time to spare. "I don't think he's telling the truth though, because they sent him on leave after his last mission."

The policeman scribbled something down into a small notebook and looked up again, meeting Claire's gaze. He had worked on several missing persons cases, but this woman's reaction surprised him. He had seen many a case where the relatives were too distraught to talk about their relative, and he had also seen an equal amount where the relative didn't seem bothered by the disappearance of a family member. But this woman... she was difficult to read. She seemed more determined than anything else, determined that something had happened to her brother and he was keeping it from her. "How did your brother sound on the phone?"

"He sounded like he was trying to hide something from me." Claire said, folding her arms and sighing. "And he sounded serious – too serious."

"Can you explain that to me?"

"Chris is always serious... but this time it just sounded _too serious_, like he knew he was in real danger but he wasn't reacting to any of it."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say."

"That's because you don't know Chris."

xXx

"You've got to admit – the shoelace thing was funny." Chris said, staring out of the car window as he tried to keep a straight face – he didn't need to anger Wesker even more. When he and Wesker had both _finally_ managed to undo the knots on Wesker's shoes the blonde had smacked him in the face, leaving a purplish bruise on his cheek.

Wesker turned to look at him, _seething_. "We've already discussed humour, Chris, when you told me that terrible milkshake joke."

"Oh yeah, and then you pulled a gun on me." Chris said, turning to face Wesker and moving his arms – Wesker had made sure the handcuffs were even tighter this time. _To hell with not angering Wesker._ "The gun that now has no bullets, so I guess you can't tell your joke anymore – the punch line won't work."

"Are you _trying_ to aggravate me?" Wesker asked. "I may not have any bullets, but I'm sure I could _club_ you with the gun."

"That's not very nice." Chris said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he noticed how Wesker's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

The blonde decided to ignore his comment and focus on driving – he was pissed off because Chris seemed to be under the assumption that he could get away with _joking_ with him. Wesker didn't see how anything had changed – as far as he was concerned, they were still enemies. They were only travelling together because he had plans that involved the brunette, and Chris had decided to come along without putting up a fight for some sort of reason that Wesker was unsure of. They weren't _friends_ – they weren't anything _close_ to friends.

Chris was drumming on his thighs with his hands. "I'm hungry."

_I've had enough._ Wesker thought, pulling over on the side of the road. "Get out of the car."

"What? Why?" Chris frowned.

"Because I said so." Wesker hissed and climbed out of the driver's side. "Out, now."

Chris raised an eyebrow and climbed out of the car, walking around the side. "Wesker, what the hell is –"

Wesker slammed him against the side of the car and pinned him with his hands on Chris's shoulders and his thigh between Chris's legs. "I am sick of _you_."

"What –" Chris was silenced by Wesker's lips pressing against his. He was surprised by the sudden kiss – he had been expecting the blonde to punch him. Wesker's grip on his arms loosened and he broke away, pushing Wesker backwards.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Chris found himself slammed up against the car again and this time his hands were fisted into the front of Wesker's shirt. Wesker pressed his thigh up against Chris's groin and the brunette's breathing hitched. Chris parted his lips to allow Wesker's tongue into his mouth as he ground down against Wesker's thigh. The blonde slid a hand down between their bodies and rubbed himself from the fabric of his trousers before hurriedly undoing his belt and flies.

Chris yanked Wesker's jacket off and dropped it to the dusty ground. The jacket was shortly followed by his own shirt as both of them became more frantic for... _something_. Wesker grabbed a fistful of Chris's hair and yanked his head back, pressing his lips to Chris's neck. Chris groaned as the blonde man began to suck on the sensitive skin of his neck, occasionally biting down.

Wesker undid the jeans Chris was wearing and dropped them to the ground, leaving Chris standing fully naked before the other man. Wesker undid his own trousers and stepped out of them, pushing Chris up against the car again. Chris started to undo the buttons on the front of Wesker's shirt, amazed that his brain was still working at a capacity that allowed him to work out _how_ to undo the buttons.

Wesker's shirt soon joined the rest of their clothes on the floor and he grabbed Chris's arm, dragging him around to the front of the car. Wesker slammed Chris against the front of the car and pushed him down, bending him over the hood. Chris's hands scrabbled on the metal of the hood as he tried to get purchase on something as he felt the tip of Wesker's arousal brush against his entrance.

"Wesker – I can't –" Chris said breathlessly. "I can't fucking take you with no prep!"

"Well you're going to." Wesker said, and even though Chris couldn't see his face, he didn't need to… to know that the other man was smirking. Wesker began to push into him slowly and Chris squeezed his eyes shut, biting down so hard on his lip that he could taste blood.

Chris knew that the other man wanted to hear him scream and voice his discomfort because that was part of what got Wesker off – knowing he was causing other people pain. He wanted to show Chris that he was superior, probably a power play after Chris's stunt with the shoelaces. Chris's knuckles were white from how tight his grip on the ridge of the hood was – despite the pain it caused his wounded hand – as Wesker hilted himself inside of him.

Surprisingly, the blonde gave Chris a chance to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in. Chris swore loudly and pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the hood, deciding not to bite his lip, as he was sure his teeth would end up going _through_ it. He decided to focus on the pain in his hand other than the pain of Wesker fucking him into the hood of the car.

Wesker grunted and panted as he thrust into the brunette. "You're so fucking tight, Chris... so hot too..."

"Fuck, Wesker..." By this point, Chris's own arousal was in need of attention, and he moaned in relief when Wesker's hand wrapped around his shaft.

Chris thrust into the blonde's grip, though Wesker didn't move his hand at all.

"Say it." Wesker growled.

"What?" Chris gasped, trying to get some friction against his aching arousal.

"Say that you're sorry for earlier." Wesker said, snapping his hips forward and hitting Chris's prostate.

Chris moaned loudly, unsure of whether he was still able to form words.

"Say it." Wesker growled again.

"Fuck... I'm sor-sorry... fuck..."

"Good boy." Wesker said in a patronising tone as he _finally_ started to stroke Chris's shaft. The blonde gripped Chris's hip as he brought the other man closer to the edge.

Chris shuddered and groaned as he released, slumping against the car. Wesker climaxed shortly afterwards, letting out a low groan as he released. Afterwards, he pulled out of the brunette and rested one of his hands on the front of the car to support himself.

After a few moments to collect himself, Wesker walked over to the pile of clothes and began to get dressed, brushing the dust off of his clothes with a frown. Chris was still panting as Wesker threw his clothes at him, and they landed on the hood beside his head.

"Get dressed." Wesker snapped. "We're nearly there now."

Chris spat blood out of his mouth and glared at the blonde as he climbed into the driver's seat, watching the brunette dress with a faint smirk on his lips.

**A/N: I will try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible, but I may be wrestling with some coursework, my other fic and some exam preparation for a while. Be patient, I will try to update as soon as I can. I know you all love reading this story (I hope) and I enjoy writing it.**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews and favourites! Sorry this has taken a while, but I've had a bit of a block on all of my fiction writing, and I've found it really hard to get into character. Yes, I did receive a flame on my last chapter and that did knock my confidence slightly, but if you don't like my story, then don't bother reading it. This flame wasn't even critical in a constructive way – it was just downright nasty and sarcastic.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Twelve**

"Chris, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh, what?" Chris asked, his attention diverting back to Wesker. For the whole drive he had been lost in his own thoughts, wondering if things were ever going to change between him and the blonde.

Wesker sighed and turned his attention back to the road. "Nevermind."

"No, what did you say?" Chris asked. The blonde never talked for talking's sake, so it was probably something important... or he was insulting Chris's intelligence in inferiority, but there would always be a reason behind it.

"It doesn't matter now."

Chris rolled his eyes and went back to staring out of the window, watching the streetlights blur as they drove past. They were now on the outskirts of Ottawa, and Wesker was following the satnav directions to an address on the other side of town. Chris was pissed off that the blonde seemed to be acting completely oblivious as to why he was acting like a prissy little bitch. He had kinda been man-handled on a road side and fucked into the hood of the car they were driving, so it was a reasonable excuse to be in a bad mood.

"Sorry, I'm just tired." Chris sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. It was true – travelling was tiring, and he was also sore – his wrists were sore because he had been wearing handcuffs and everything else was sore because... well, that was why he wasn't speaking to Wesker. "So just tell me what you were trying to."

"I was just saying that we'll be there soon." Wesker said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "And I was going to warn you against trying to escape."

"Wesker, I've come all this way with you." Chris said, attempting to fold his arms before remembering he was wearing handcuffs again. "Why would I try to escape now?"

Wesker hesitated. "Why have you come all this way with me? You had plenty of time to escape last night when you were on the phone to your sister."

"I don't know... I don't want to talk about this." Chris scowled.

"I do."

"Oh, so now you want to fucking talk." Chris snarled, turning to face Wesker. "This is the first time ever, isn't it? Let's mark it on the calendar – 'The day Wesker wanted to talk'."

"Chris –"

"No, don't interrupt me." Chris said. "Just... you never want to talk. We never have talked about things that were bothering us or whatever – that's our problem. I knew something was wrong. I _knew_ it. I thought you were just stressed out because you had too much work or something but really it was because you betrayed S.T.A.R.S – you betrayed _me_ and look what you've got for it. You've got absolutely _nothing_. If you had known that you were going to end up like this would you still have done it?"

Wesker shook his head and muttered something under his breath. He didn't mean 'talk' as in 'talk about feelings', because he didn't do that. Feelings were a weakness; if he allowed them to control him he would never be able to accomplish his aims. He controlled his own feelings so that he could feel what he wanted – he wasn't like Chris. He didn't let his emotions dictate him. If the brunette became angry it was always because he was provoked. If Wesker became angry then it was because something had gone wrong, but it wouldn't be because he was provoked. He never allowed himself to be provoked.

"Oh, so now you're _not_ going to answer me?" Chris asked, shaking his head. "I guess we're not going to talk – what a surprise."

"I didn't mean 'talk' in the way you did, Chris – that's the problem. We say things and the other interprets them differently. I don't want to sit here and talk about the 'good old days'. I'm not going to sit here and confess why I'm such a bad person and that I feel guilty about the betrayal, but I don't see any of it that way." Wesker sighed. "I was just curious as to why you've stayed with me this whole time – it's no secret that you hate me and I'm surprised about your lack of escape attempts. I thought that I was going to have to knock you out frequently because you would always be trying to disrupt my plans but you haven't done anything of the sort – you haven't tried to escape at all, even when I sent you to steal a car for us – you could've left me at the hotel. Why didn't you?"

Chris was silent. Wesker was asking him questions he didn't even know the answer to himself. He didn't know why he stayed – he supposed that he had resigned himself to the fact that if he tried Wesker would come after him. In fact, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers. He had stayed... he had helped Wesker commit crimes, such as car stealing... he had even let the man use him for sex on two occasions.

Wesker glanced over at the brunette, who was back to staring out of the window – a sign that he was upset and wanted distraction. It was something Chris had always done, even in their S.T.A.R.S days. "Chris, are you going to answer me?"

"I don't know." Chris said. "Can we get something eat around here?"

Wesker sighed – it looked as though Chris was as much in the dark as he was about what the answer to the question was.

xXx

The restaurant was small and they were seated in the corner, away from most of the other customers. The restaurant was packed with families, groups of friends or couples who had obviously wanted somewhere quiet. Chris hoped no-one fit him and Wesker into any of those categories – it was almost impossible to, seeing as they were both sitting in silence, neither of them making eye contact with the other.

They were waiting for someone to bring them a menu, and Chris was aware of his stomach grumbling, and the fact that Wesker hadn't had a proper meal in God only knew how long, as he had barely touched his fast food take-out when they were on the road.

"This is a nice place." Chris said.

"Hmm."

Chris sighed. He was trying to make conversation so that they didn't look so out of place – they had got a couple of strange looks from other people in the restaurant, probably wondering if they had argued and whether they actually were a couple... or it might have been because Wesker was still wearing his sunglasses.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"No." Wesker said. "This place isn't exactly what I'm used to – I never really came to this part of town."

"Oh, it's not posh enough for you, is it?" Chris asked.

Wesker sighed. "No."

"The waitress is coming." Chris mumbled, leaning back in his seat as an elderly woman with a notebook and two laminated menus approached their table.

"Hello dears." She said, handing a menu to Chris. "Does your friend need brail?"

"What?" Chris asked, looking at Wesker.

"Well, I'd hate to ask but..." The woman leant down to whisper. "Is he blind?"

Wesker raised an eyebrow when he noticed the grin on Chris's face.

"Yes." Chris answered. "Yes he is. He doesn't need brail though – I can read the menu to him, it's fine."

Wesker's expression turned grim – so this was the way he wanted to play it. He was determined to get his own back on the brunette once they were out of the restaurant.

"Oh right." The waitress nodded, standing up straight. "Can I get your dears anything to drink?"

"I'll have a beer please." Chris said.

"Chris, you can't drink." Wesker said.

Chris frowned. "Why not?"

"Because you're the driver." Wesker said. "I can't drive if I'm blind, can I?"

The waitress laughed. "No, it's not a very good idea."

"I'll have a coke." Chris sighed.

"I'll have a cold beer." Wesker said.

"Alright." The elderly waitress said, scribbling down their drink orders. "I'll go and get these for you and then I'll be back to take your food order."

"Thank you." Chris smiled as she walked away, leaving him and Wesker alone. He leant across the table, so that he could lower his voice and speak to Wesker. "What the hell? I can't drink because I'm the driver? You're the one who has to drive!"

"I can't drive." Wesker said, folding his arms smugly. "I'm blind."

Chris shook his head and leant back in his chair, folding his arms and mimicking Wesker's position. "You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?"

A waiter came over and placed their drinks in front of them, before rushing off to clear a now empty table.

Wesker picked up his beer and raised his glass to Chris. "Yes, I am." He took a sip of the beer and placed it back down on the table. "I don't even like beer, Chris."

"So you're just doing this to spite me, right?"

"Yes." Wesker said.

"Fucker." Chris muttered, shaking his head and picking up his coke glass. As annoyed as he was, he couldn't help but smile at the current situation.

xXx

"You mean you're trusting me to drive?" Chris asked, glancing at the keys Wesker was holding out to him.

"Chris, I have had three pints of beer." Wesker replied. "As sober as I feel, I think it's safe to say I'm not fit to drive."

"And you're trusting me not to run away?"

"Chris, we're at the end of our journey." Wesker said. "We both know that you aren't going to leave because you're curious about what I've got planned."

"True." Chris said and took the keys from Wesker. He climbed into the front of the car and turned on the satnav, checking over the next instructions. "Where are we heading? The satnav says that we're at our location."

"I can get you there from here." Wesker said, climbing in beside Chris.

"Why, can you navigate drunk?" Chris asked.

"I'm not drunk." Wesker scowled. "I'm just being safe – turn right when you get out of the car park and then continue along the main road."

xXx

"Stop here." Wesker ordered and climbed out of the car as soon as Chris had put the handbrake on. Chris climbed out and stood next to him, inspecting the mansion where Wesker had directed him to go.

"What the hell is it with you people and mansions?" Chris muttered.

"They're extremely useful, actually." Wesker defended. "They have large grounds and plenty of rooms which are easy to convert – besides, not many people come snooping around."

"This place looks as though it's been abandoned."

"It was." Wesker said, walking towards the door. "You can bring the gun if it makes you feel any safer."

"The gun with no bullets." Chris scoffed, but he picked up the gun anyway – there might be some ammunition in the mansion if it had been owned by Umbrella.

The mansion was dark and gloomy inside and looked as though no-one had lived in it for centuries. Wesker slowly stepped in, lowering his sunglasses so that he could see clearer.

"There's a torch in the car." Chris said quietly. In his experience, it was never a good idea to speak loudly when walking into abandoned buildings – bad things usually happened, like being attacked by people the Umbrella Corporation had infected, and sometimes worse things than people. "Do you want me to go back and grab it?"

"No, it's fine." Wesker said, walking towards one of the dusty walls. He flicked a switch, and all of the lights suddenly came on, making Chris jump and pull the stolen gun out of his belt – he didn't need bullets to use it as a club. "Relax, Chris. There's nothing in here to hurt you." He headed for the stairs, a small smirk on his lips. "Well, except for me."

Chris's eyes narrowed as he followed the blonde up the stairs. He still didn't tuck the gun away – he had been in enough deserted buildings to know that you could never take anything for granted.

At the top of the stairs there was a large wooden door. Wesker pulled it open, revealing a solid metal door behind it. He slid a small panel aside to reveal a keypad, and typed in a security code. The door swung open with a loud 'clunk', and Wesker stepped into a tiled white room, walking over to what looked like a huge fridge the length of one of the walls.

Chris could see how urgent the other man was as he scrambled to get the 'fridge' door open. It surprised him that Wesker would act like this in front of him, even though he was desperate not to feel so weak. Chris had noticed the change when they were travelling – every now and then he would see hints of humanity in Wesker – simple things really, like closing his eyes because he was tired and placing his hand over his stomach whenever it rumbled, the little smile he made whenever Chris was huffing about something...

It was like they had gone back in time.

It was how things would've been if Wesker had never betrayed S.T.A.R.S, well, except they wouldn't be running from the cops. They would be doing _things_ together – couple things – though they never would've acknowledged the couple aspect. Maybe in time they would've settled down and Chris could've coaxed some feelings out of Wesker, but it wouldn't have been until _at least_ five years after they had began to take whatever they had seriously – if five years was even a long enough time.

Chris was snapped out of his trance by something heavy _smashing_.

Wesker was standing in front of the 'fridge', his breathing ragged and harsh. On the floor by his feet was a smashed tray, which looked as though it should have contained the injection Wesker needed. Chris wandered over and knelt down, careful of the glass shards.

"There's... there's nothing here." Wesker said, closing his eyes. He had to regain his composure – he had to focus. Someone had been there before him, someone who knew what he was after – he needed his injection. He had been without it for so long and he could feel how weak he was physically becoming – he was unsure whether it was that or the alcohol making him light headed.

"Do you have a security camera in here?" Chris asked, peering into the dark corners of the room.

Wesker pointed to the far side of the room. "There's a terminal over there. You should be able to pull up the footage of whoever did this... they _want_ me to _know_ they did it." He went back to looking through the 'fridge', muttering to himself. "They can't have got everything... there must be _something_."

Leaving Wesker to his rambling, Chris got to his feet and walked over to the security terminal, rewinding the tapes in search of anything that could be considered out of the ordinary. He stopped the footage when he saw someone that he recognised. She had been impossible to forget, with her stunning exotic looks and the sheet fastened around her waist she classed as a dress...

"Wesker," Chris gasped. "You need to see this."

The blonde walked over to Chris, who was leaning on the security console, pressing buttons to enlarge the video. Wesker's face contorted with his snarl. "That bitch!"

"Sh!" Chris said. "It looks as though she's left a message."

_"Albert, it's nice to see you again."_ Excella drawled in her European accent. _"Well, I hope it's a pleasure for you to see me. If you're watching this, then I guess that I am dead and you survived our little partnership... oh well, what's done is done."_ She walked over to the 'fridge' and took out a tray of the formula Wesker injected himself with. _"I bet you regret leaving me here alone now, Albert. You left me here so that you could deal with one of your scientists... oh well, it doesn't matter now. All that matters is my revenge – you never expected this from me, did you?"_

"If she wasn't already dead..." Wesker growled, and Chris noticed that he was _trembling with rage_.

_"This is a present from both of us, Wesker."_ Excella proceeded to say, her expression steely. _"I don't know what this is going to do to you – I hope it turns you into one of your own monstrous creations. I hope the scientists you hired to prevent anything happening to you have the pleasure of experimenting on you."_ Someone else moved into the shot, making it obvious why Excella had said 'we'.

"Jill." Chris whispered.

_"__Addio, amante.__"*_ Excella said, and blew a kiss at the screen, an evil smirk gracing her lips as she gave the tray to Jill, and the blonde woman smashed it.

***Goodbye, lover**

**A/N: And so the plot thickens. I don't know if Excella actually is Italian, but her last name and her accent make me almost 100% sure...**

**Again, I'm sorry for the wait... but this is a pretty long and important chapter! I hope you're all enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you for all of the favourites and reviews on the last chapter! Your praise means the world to me. I'm quite happy with how this chapter turned out, even though my slave driver (CarEKaos) has been poorly, which means she hasn't been peeking over my shoulder and yelling expletives when I'm not writing this fic.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil. I only own Detective Smith and BSAA Agent Chapman.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Chris closed the door to the mansion behind him, hearing it lock. He had decided to give Wesker some space after the revelation that Excella had betrayed him. The blonde was completely beyond rational – all he seemed to be doing was taking his anger out on various inanimate objects in the mansion, and Chris was pretty sure that he didn't want to be in the same category as the furniture.

He needed his own space too, after seeing Jill on the video footage. He knew that she hadn't been in control of what she was doing and it hurt to see her like that. It hurt to see her animalistic and following Excella's orders so easily. As much as he hated Wesker he felt angry towards the two women for deliberately taking away the injection that was so vital to him. A few weeks ago, he was sure that he would've done the same – he would've smashed Wesker's formula to get to him. He would've done _anything_ to get at the blonde because he had seen him as his enemy. Now he wanted to help Wesker because he pitied him.

Chris thought he had lost everything after Africa, but he hadn't – he still had a life, he had his family and he would probably be able to find a job. He might even find someone to settle down with and spend the rest of his life with... but Wesker never would. Wesker really did have _nothing_ at all, especially now that he knew Excella was going to double cross him if she had lived.

xXx

Wesker opened the door to the mansion and looked outside. Chris was leaning against the car with his arms folded across his chest, obviously shivering because of the temperature drop – he didn't have a jacket. He walked down the steps and over to the brunette, standing beside him.

"Crazy shit, huh?" Chris said.

Wesker nodded. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I guessed." Chris said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't either."

"I know."

"So now what?" Chris asked. "Where are we supposed to go from here? What are we supposed to do?"

"I'm not sure." Wesker answered. "I need to get somewhere that I can get my injection. I don't know if Excella's smart enough to have cleaned out all of my facilities, but I wouldn't put it past her."

"She didn't really look like the smart type."

"I told you to never underestimate a woman, Chris." Wesker said. "Looks can be deceiving – did you really think I would hire a dumb slut to work with me? No. She needed to have a high level of intelligence."

"I'm just saying she didn't look like you hired her for her... brains." Chris said, a smirk crossing his features. "I mean, if I had her around I don't think I would really care about how intelligent she was."

Wesker sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "And here you are again, making the mistake of assuming that I'm just like you."

"Well, I wouldn't say that you're completely different..." Chris said through chattering teeth.

"Are you really that cold?"

"It's freezing out here, Wesker. Aren't you cold at all?" Chris asked, reluctantly taking his hands out of his pockets and breathing on them in an attempt to stop his fingers feeling as though they were about to fall off.

"Not really." Wesker said. "I don't really notice the cold. I'm too busy."

"Thinking of how you're going to get out of this?"

"Perhaps." Wesker said. "You should know by now that I always have a plan."

"Does that plan involve going back into this mansion and looking for a nice, warm bed to spend the night in, rather than standing out here in the cold?" Chris asked, smiling slightly.

The corners of Wesker's mouth twitched. "I suppose."

xXx

"_Miss Redfield? It's Detective Smith. I'm sorry for the late hour but we have some information you would like to know."_

"Yes?" Claire tapped her fingers against the counter. She hadn't been able to sleep anyway, worried about why Chris sounded so relaxed about whatever situation he was in – well, relaxed enough to be serious and not do anything about it.

"_We've tracked your brother to Ottawa in Canada."_

"Is he okay?"

"_He looks to be, ma'am."_ Detective Smith said. _"We're currently trying to identify the other man with him, but we're not having any luck. I was wondering if you would be able to help us."_

Claire gripped the phone tighter. "I might be able to."

"_The man with him is blonde and dressed in a suit. He's wearing sunglasses, and we haven't seen him take them off – he didn't even remove them when they went into a restaurant." _Detective Smith explained. _"After that they headed to the outskirts of Ottawa."_

"The man is Albert Wesker, I'm certain of it." Claire said. Wesker matched the description perfectly, and he was the only person Claire could think of with a massive grudge against her brother.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, except for typing, as Detective Smith proceeded to see what he could find out about Albert Wesker. _"Miss Redfield, I've just looked up Albert Wesker and as far as I know he's dead."_

xXx

Chris closed the door to the master bedroom, coughing. "I don't think we're going in there... it's full of dust."

"What did you expect?" Wesker asked. "This mansion has been abandoned for a long time, Chris. Of course it's going to be dusty – all we need to do is clean the place up a bit."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Chris asked.

Wesker walked a little further down the corridor until he came to a small closet. He kicked the door in and flicked on the light, revealing shelves of cleaning products and several mops and brooms. He took a cloth and a bottle of something out and handed it to Chris. "Start in the bedroom – we need a place to sleep."

"Oh, and what are you going to do while I clean up this place?" Chris asked.

"Try and find some of my work." Wesker answered. "Excella can't have destroyed everything in this facility – she may have been smart, but not that smart. There must still be some computer files lying around."

"Don't you want me to help you look?" Chris asked. "Surely that's more important than cleaning..."

"No." Wesker said. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to see any of my research, Chris... and I'm not saying that to be a pain – I'm saying it because I know you. Just clean up the room a bit. I know that you must be tired."

"Erm... okay." Chris said, wondering why Wesker was being... well, _nice_ to him. Did the blonde have some sort of ulterior motive? Was he going to wait until Chris was asleep to do something horrible to him? Why was he looking for his research? Did he have some sort of horrible idea he was going to try out...? "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"No idea." Wesker said. "I tend to get caught up in my work, Chris... but it's okay. I'll still be in the mansion. If you do happen to find any sort of monsters in here then you just have to scream and I'll come to your rescue... if I feel like rescuing you, that is."

"Thanks." Chris said grimly as Wesker disappeared out of sight.

xXx

"I'm sorry, who are you?" BSAA Agent Chapman asked, tapping her fingers on the desk. When she had signed up for the night shift she hadn't been expecting an angry woman to show up, ranting and raving about someone called Albert Wesker.

"I'm Claire Redfield. My brother is Chris Redfield who used to work for you." The woman scowled, leaning on the front of the desk with her arms folded. "Look him up on your records and it'll tell you all about Albert Wesker – it'll tell you why I don't want my brother near this guy!"

"Ma'am, you need to calm down." Chapman said. "And perhaps it would be better for you to make an appointment to speak to someone of a higher grade – they would probably be able to tell you what you need to know."

"I don't have time to wait for an appointment if Wesker has my brother." Claire protested, slamming her hand down on the desk and startling the BSAA Agent. "Look, I don't know who you are... but you have to understand that this is important and someone's life is in danger – and it isn't just my brother. Read about Wesker and you'll see why this is so urgent."

"Miss Redfield, calm down." Agent Chapman sighed, shaking the mouse and booting up the computer. "Give me a few moments to look up your brother and test the validity of your claim."

"Why the hell would I lie?" Claire asked.

"Please, take a seat. I'll only be a few moments."

Claire grumbled as she walked over to a small waiting area, with blue armchairs which looked as though they would become more uncomfortable the longer someone waited. There was a coffee machine in the corner, and Claire fumbled for spare change in her pocket. She had been up since the crack of dawn redecorating her flat, so staying up into the small hours of the night was not what she really wanted to do.

She looked over to where Agent Chapman was staring at her screen, frowning as she scrolled through pages and pages of data on Chris and Wesker, and the history the two of them had between each other.

"There's a lot to read." Claire called over to the agent, and received a glare in return.

xXx

Wesker opened the door to the master bedroom, carrying a laptop and a stack of folders he had dug out of his private vault. They were old and probably wouldn't be of any use to him – Excella hadn't destroyed them, which meant that she either couldn't get in the vault or they hadn't been worth anything.

Chris was nowhere in sight.

Wesker had expected to find the brunette already in bed, spread out across the mattress and snoring loudly. Wesker could remember when they had shared a bed once, a long time ago, and he had to wake Chris up several times in the night to tell the brunette to either move over or get the hell out of bed, because he couldn't sleep with Chris's limbs draped all over him.

He left the master bedroom and walked to the end of the hallway, where there was a large window overlooking the grounds. He could see the car that they had driven in, but Chris wasn't even outside, meaning that he must be somewhere in the mansion.

The need to find the brunette was becoming increasingly greater, and it was making Wesker nervous. He didn't care if Chris was missing because he was genuinely worried for the brunette – he cared because Chris always had a way of ruining his plans, so the brunette had probably found his way into the armoury and was stocking up with various weapons.

Wesker began to search all of the rooms along the corridor, wishing that he had some sort of weapon to defend himself with. He hadn't taken his injection in too long, and he was starting to feel the toll it was taking on his body and mind. He felt physically weaker, and he knew that his mind wasn't as sharp as normal.

The blonde opened the door to the lounge, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Chris was laying on one of the sofas, obviously asleep. His head was lulled to the side and one of his arms was dangling over the edge so that his knuckles were scraping on the floor. He was snoring quietly, and for a moment Wesker contemplated leaving him there – obviously Chris had something against sharing a bed with him.

Sighing, he walked over to the sofa and shook the other man. "Chris, wake up."

Chris grumbled something and shifted position.

"Chris, just wake up." Wesker sighed, shaking him harder. The brunette stirred and rolled over, keeping his back to Wesker. The blonde sighed again, and then a thought crossed his mind. He stepped back from the couch and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Chris, there's a licker behind you..."

Chris rolled off the couch and went into a defensive position, brandishing the gun which still had no bullets in it – he could fight off the licker, or die trying. Once he became aware that it was only himself and Wesker in the room, he turned to face the blonde, frowning.

"Good." Wesker said. "You're awake."

"Did you really just pull a childish practical joke?" Chris asked.

"Did you really clean the master bedroom just for me?" Wesker asked. "You don't have to sleep on the couch – we can share as long as you're not going to snore and fidget."

"Don't you remember what happened last time we shared a bed?" Chris scowled.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I just –"

"Look, if you feel uncomfortable you can stay in here." Wesker said.

"..." Chris raised an eyebrow. "I sense a 'but'."

"... But we did used to perform experiments involving lickers here, and as far as I know there could be one on the loose in the grounds. Excella never was very good at cleaning up messes." Wesker said. "It would probably be best for the both of us to stay together, just in case one does come to kill you."

"Why are you so sure it would be trying to kill _me_?" Chris asked, but Wesker was already halfway along the corridor. He sighed and tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, starting to feel slightly queasy – he really didn't want to share a bed with Wesker, even if it would be more comfortable than the couch.

**A/N: Yay, another chapter done! The next chapter should contain some smut, unless my brain develops some sort of crazy idea involving... I don't even want to think about what, but it hasn't been able to stay on track at the moment. Anyway, I'll try to have it up as soon as possible, as long as nothing else gets in the way... *ignores big pile of revision***

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Again, thank you for all of the reviews and favourites. I'm glad that the majority of people are still praising and giving wonderful feedback. Thank you so much "A dear friend..." I don't know who you are either, but your review was very sweet. I would message you to tell you this, but since you're anon...**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil. I only own BSAA Agent Chapman.**

**Warning:**** SMUT (I would probably say 'reward')**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Fourteen**

It shouldn't have felt this normal.

Climbing into bed with Wesker never should've felt normal, because Chris was putting his life in his own hands. If he went to sleep, it would leave him vulnerable to whatever the blonde man had planned – he still had no idea exactly when Wesker was going to enact his revenge – but staying awake would put him in a state of sleep deprivation and tiredness, which would make it harder for him to fight back against Wesker if the blonde did try anything.

"Chris, you aren't going to sleep in your clothes, are you?" Wesker asked.

"I don't have anything else to sleep in." Chris shrugged. "Why, aren't you?"

"I wasn't planning on it." Wesker said. "It's not very hygienic, and we've been wearing these for the past couple of days. There should be clean clothes in the wardrobe which we can change into in the morning – when we wake up we'll figure out what our next steps are going to be."

"Are you... are we really sharing the bed?" Chris asked. "I really don't mind the couch... I've slept in worse places, so a couch could be considered to be luxury."

"Why are you so nervous?" Wesker asked and Chris looked away, not wanting to go into the subject. It would involve having to talk about the past and _feelings_, and that was something that he and Wesker didn't do. They never had done. Chris treated Wesker almost like a robot, unsure of whether the blonde could even process feelings at all, and Wesker treated Chris as an inferior human being because he allowed himself to feel.

"Oh, there could be plenty of reasons, Wesker." Chris said. "Maybe I'm nervous because I'm in a mansion in the middle of Canada with a man who's done his best to kill me on several occasions... maybe I'm nervous because said man hasn't been specific as to why I'm here at all, other than the fact he wants to do something horrible to me for fucking up his plans."

Wesker stepped towards Chris, taking his sunglasses off. He looked down at the slightly shorter man, red eyes meeting dark blue. This surprised Chris, as Wesker always did his best to keep his eyes covered – his eyes were the only way anyone could read him. "So I make you nervous?"

"I thought you were the smart one, Wesker." Chris spat, aware of how close they were standing to each other, aware of the tension in the room. The brunette was determined not to back down, because he wanted answers. He wanted to know if Wesker really was planning on doing something horrible to him, and if he was... well, Chris just wanted to get it over with. "I'm sick of all of the pretending, Wesker. So what if we've been on a nice road trip all across America together? It's done nothing but make me wonder what this is about – you hate me. You've tried to kill me, and I'm pretty sure you want to kill me right now. I can see it in your eyes."

The blonde man didn't say anything. He searched Chris's face, trying to understand and predict what the brunette was going to do next. Just because he didn't allow himself to show any emotion didn't mean that he didn't understand the complexity of it. He could see that Chris was angry and upset, and there was also something else in his eyes – something that Wesker was afraid to put a name to. If he named it, it would become real.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Chris asked, almost urging the other man to do something. He was anticipating Wesker's reaction – either a smart comment to shoot down his argument and leave him even more in the dark about what the hell he was doing in Canada, or maybe even a punch to the face or the gut. The violence wouldn't surprise him.

"You always have been the only person prepared to stand up to me." Wesker said quietly, keeping his gaze locked with Chris's. If he looked away it would show that he felt inferior as he was backing down, or it would give the implication that he was ashamed – what did he have to be ashamed of? "I admire you for that."

"You hate it." Chris snarled, shifting closer to Wesker. "You hate it because I'm the person you _want_ to be obedient. I'm the person you want to submit to you. I'm the person you want to hurt because I'm always there to stop you."

"You're the person I wanted to join me." Wesker said, and although his expression didn't change, Chris was sure that it was supposed to be a confession. "If I had known all those years ago that you were going to cause me this much trouble I would've extended my hand to you, Chris. I would've focused more on grooming you, shaping you to my ideals."

"I thought that's what you had been trying to do anyway." Chris said, lowering his voice. For some reason, talking at normal volume seemed wrong for this moment – it seemed as though it would ruin it all, and he was so close to breaking Wesker's code. He could feel it, he could tell by the tingling in his spine. "It wasn't like you ever cared."

Wesker opened his mouth to say something, but found that Chris's lips were now on his. The brunette's hands were fisted into the front of Wesker's shirt as he yanked the blonde closer, stumbling slightly. It was that moment when Wesker took the initiative, and he slammed Chris up against the nearest wall.

Chris's hands were all over Wesker – grabbing his shirt, in his hair... he wasn't sure what he was doing; only knowing that he needed the other man and he needed him _now_. Wesker's hands were on his shoulders, pinning him back against the wall and every now and then he would grip the material of Chris shirt, due to the fact he was feeling exactly the same – he _needed_ Chris. He would never admit it to the brunette, because admitting that he did... feel... something... would be admitting that he was nothing – that he was just like anyone else. He wasn't like anyone else; he was closer to being an immortal than anyone.

And here he was, kissing the man who took that away from him.

Chris's hands fumbled with the belt the other man was wearing, trying to get it undone, but in his frenzy working out the mechanics of the buckle was almost like rocket science. Wesker bit down on the brunette's bottom lip, startling Chris. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the other man's mouth and he felt Chris push against him, letting out what sounded like a low _whine_. Chris finally managed to undo Wesker's belt and ripped it out of the belt loops on his trousers, throwing it across the room.

Wesker switched their positions so he was the one with his back to the wall. He grabbed a fistful of Chris's hair and shoved him down _hard_. Chris ignored the pain that shot through his knees and undid Wesker's trousers, pulling them down past his thighs. He placed his hands on Wesker's hips, pinning him against the wall as he licked the inside of Wesker's thigh.

"Fuck, Chris... don't you fucking –" Wesker threw his head back against the wall and gripped Chris's hair tighter, trying to tell the other man what he wanted through actions. "– Stop being a... fucking tease..."

Chris smirked up at Wesker and licked the underside of Wesker's arousal, making the blonde close his eyes and slacken his grip on Chris's hair slightly. The brunette swirled his tongue around the head and bobbed his head up and down, making Wesker's grip on his hair tighten again. Chris ignored the pain in his scalp and closed his eyes, swallowing past his gag reflex and taking the whole of Wesker's length into his mouth.

Wesker took a deep breath, trying to push his hips forwards to get Chris to take him in deeper. The brunette was pinning him against the wall too hard, allowing him no freedom to have complete control over the situation. Usually Wesker would be the one controlling the speed and the rhythm but under Chris's hands he was powerless, and he had never felt like this before.

Chris could feel Wesker's frustration and was enjoying the situation. He wanted to see the blonde lose control, and he wanted to be the one to cause it. He wanted to watch Wesker come undone, he wanted to find out what made him tick. He wanted to spend a few hours like this, taking him apart and watching him put himself back together again.

"Chris, I –" Wesker allowed a small groan to slip past his lips and he was glad for the wall behind him, because he felt his knees buckle. "– Fuck, I think I'm going to..." No sooner than when the words were out of his mouth, he had reached his climax and Chris was _swallowing it all_.

Chris pulled away, allowing Wesker's softening length to slip out of his mouth. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and found himself face to face with Wesker. The blonde was breathing heavily and his cheeks were flushed a dull red, and Chris was sure that there was a hint of anger in the other man's eyes.

"I... erm... I'm going to use the bathroom." Chris said quickly and left the bedroom, walking into the en suite and locking the door behind him.

xXx

"Miss Redfield?"

Claire stirred and looked up at Agent Chapman, who was standing over her, holding a large portfolio. Claire hadn't intended to fall asleep in the BSAA waiting room, but she had just been so tired.

"Yes?" Claire asked, sitting up properly and rubbing her eyes. "Did you finally decide that you should do something about my brother?"

"Miss Redfield, it says in this folder that Albert Wesker is believed to be deceased." Agent Chapman said. "It also says that your brother suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and he is going to be placed on a counselling program once his leave is finished."

"Do you know how many times Wesker's been pronounced dead?" Claire asked.

Agent Chapman pursed her lips. "This file has allowed me to make an estimate of how many times Albert Wesker has been believed to be deceased." She flicked through the folder and showed Claire the latest report from Africa, Chris's last run in with the blonde. "However, it doesn't explain how he would be alive now. He burned alive in a volcano in Africa."

"Supposedly." Claire said.

"Miss Redfield –"

"It says 'supposedly' right there." Claire said, leaning closer and pointing to where the word was written in the document. "See? Not even the BSAA is sure if he's dead."

"Look, the best I can do is make you an appointment with someone of a higher grade who is more experienced and knowledgeable in dealing with matters concerning your brother and Albert Wesker." Agent Chapman sighed. "It won't be until morning, so I would suggest that you go home and get yourself a decent night's sleep. I will phone you in the morning with the details, okay?"

Claire bit her tongue, trying to stop herself arguing with the other woman. She knew that the agent was lacking knowledge in the matters concerning her brother and was doing the best that she could, but tomorrow morning could be too late.

xXx

When Chris finally stepped out of the bathroom, Wesker was in bed. The brunette could see the blonde's silhouetted figure in the moonlight that was streaming through the curtains. He wondered if Wesker was asleep – things would be easier if he was. Chris didn't want to hear all of the blonde's jibes at him for proving his inferiority by going down on his _knees_ for him. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure why he had done it. One moment they had been arguing, and the next moment he had been throwing himself at the blonde man.

It was almost like old times.

Chris could remember several occasions before when heated arguments had turned into something else, several of them being in the locker room at HQ. He didn't want things to feel like old times. He wanted to hate Wesker, because Wesker had turned against him. Wesker had destroyed his life.

"Are you coming to bed?" Wesker asked with a frustrated sigh, flicking on the lamp and rolling over so that he was facing the other man. "Or are you going to just stand there and think about what just happened and how it was like old times?"

"Wow, it seems that you are capable of nostalgia."

"I don't think you really want to start an argument right now, Chris." Wesker sighed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Chris could see the other man's bare chest and he gulped – he really didn't know what he wanted anymore. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

"No we won't – we're never going to talk about it." Chris said, stripping off his own shirt. If he did run away now, he would just be showing even more weakness, even more inferiority. He was going to act as though nothing had happened – Wesker made it look so easy, so he must be able to do it too.

"You're learning well." Wesker said, and Chris thought that he could detect a hint of amusement in the other man's voice.

Chris hesitated before stripping off completely and walking over to the bed. He crawled into his side and rolled over so that he was facing away from Wesker. The brunette felt the bed shift as the blonde layed back down beside him, also turning his back on the other man, and switched off the lamp.

They were both silent as they tried to get to sleep, both of them restless. Chris was trying to avoid any physical contact with Wesker, and the blonde man fidgeted every time Chris did, as the brunette's movement were making the mattress shift and springs stick up in awkward places. Wesker sighed and rolled over, then punched Chris in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Chris scowled and rolled over to face the other man. "What was that for?"

"Stop moving."

"You didn't need to punch me!"

"Well, I didn't know if you were awake or asleep." Wesker said. "If I had known that you were awake, then I would've asked you nicely."

"No you wouldn't have."

"You're right." Wesker smirked. "I wouldn't have."

"Maybe I should go and sleep on the couch." Chris sighed, sitting up in the dark. "That way I wouldn't keep getting punched in the shoulder when I moved."

"Chris, I'm sure we'll be fine." Wesker said. "We just have to be... more aware of each other."

"How so?"

"If you stay on your side of the bed then I won't have to punch you again." Wesker said, shifting next to Chris. "It's as simple as that."

Chris sighed and laid back down next to Wesker, accidentally brushing against his arm. Chris rolled over, feeling his cheeks warm with a bright red flush. He wouldn't be surprised if Wesker could see the glow in the dark. "Sorry." He didn't know why he was so... so... _embarrassed_... by accidently touching Wesker.

"That's okay." Wesker said.

"You're not going to punch me again, are you?"

Wesker allowed himself a small chuckle. "Not yet. Now, go to sleep."

Chris was about to make a retort about how Wesker couldn't tell him what to do, but he decided against it. There was no sense in getting into another pointless argument with the blonde, not when they seemed to be... relaxed... around each other.

"And stop the stealing the quilt."

"What the – you're the one who's got most of it!" Chris scowled, grabbing the bedcovers and yanking them away from the other man.

"Obviously not anymore." Wesker said, rolling over and pressing himself against Chris's back. Chris kicked a leg out at the other man, but Wesker just pressed closer, grabbing Chris's arms and pinning them to his sides. "But if you're going to steal the bedcovers I guess it just means we'll have to sleep closer together."

Chris tensed up, wanting to push the other man away. He didn't want Wesker sleeping this close to him after everything else that had happened that day, especially because he could feel the warmth of Wesker's skin through the material of the quilt and Chris wanted to push back against him, wanting to know what _this_ actually was.

Wesker slowly pulled the covers away to even out the bed spread, but made no move to increase the distance between himself and the brunette. Chris felt Wesker's lips against his shoulder and he wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean... was Wesker aware of what he was doing, or was it something that Chris wasn't supposed to think about?

Why was he even thinking about it this much?

Even if the action was supposed to have some sort of meaning, nothing was ever going to happen – that had been certain as soon as Wesker had betrayed S.T.A.R.S and, by doing so, betrayed _him_. Chris knew that he was fixated on that one action, but that was because it had _hurt_. He had known that something had been wrong, but not even he had known to what extent.

Chris shifted so that Wesker's grip on his arms was eased, and he rolled over to face the other man. The brunette propped himself up on his elbow, slightly hesitant.

"You look as though you want to say something." Wesker noted, only able to see Chris's outline in the dark room. "Or you're going to watch me sleep, but that seems a tad unsettling, considering you're the one who insists on carrying around a gun with no bullets to use as a club."

Chris chuckled softly. "No, I'm not going to watch you sleep."

"What do you want then?"

"My life back."

"I can't give you that." Wesker said, and Chris thought that he heard a hint of... _regret_?

"I know." Chris said.

"If I still had my money and my company I would probably give you some sort of compensation."

"No you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't – I was just trying to ease your suffering."

"Why would you want to do that?" Chris asked, tilting his head to the side as though it would help him see in the dark so that he could try and decode Wesker's expression. "You brought me here saying that you were going to get revenge for every time I've ruined your plans... yet here we are, sharing a bed."

"There never was a revenge plan past kidnapping you." Wesker said. "And you seemed to come with me willingly, anyway."

"You mean – for the first time _ever_ you didn't have any sort of plan?" Chris asked. "You just... decided to wing it?"

"Yes, I suppose so..." Wesker said, trailing off. He was aware that Chris was almost leaning over him, and he was aware of their proximity in the dark. For the first time in his life, he actually let his urges control him and he reached up, cupping the back of Chris's neck and pulling him down.

Chris's eyes slid shut as Wesker's lips brushed against his. He was slightly surprised by Wesker's initiation of the kiss, and was worried that the other man was going to push him away at any moment, saying that it was all a big joke and he had set up some sort of torture chamber downstairs with an electric chair, some sort of 'doctor' and the lickers he had implied were roaming the grounds.

Wesker didn't push Chris away. Well, he did so that Chris was the one lying on his back and he was the one above him, straddling Chris's thighs and pressing deeper into the kiss, sliding his tongue into Chris's mouth. The brunette arched up off the bed, running his hands up Wesker's back and then entangling them in the blonde man's hair. Wesker let out a low moan and pinned Chris's shoulders to the mattress, holding the brunette down as he continued to kiss him.

Chris was aware of Wesker's obvious arousal pressed against his thigh and he pushed his hips up slightly, trying to get some friction against himself. He wasn't sure if there were any boundaries in whatever this was – was he allowed to be actively involved, or did Wesker just want him to lay there whilst he did whatever he wanted to him...? The brunette's breath hitched when Wesker's fingertips trailed down his throat, followed by his lips.

The blonde exhaled a breath as Chris pressed up into his hardness. He then licked the vein along the side of Chris's neck, before biting down onto his soft flesh and giving a suck. Chris let out a sharp breath and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the pillows as Wesker moved to the other side of his neck, leaving another mark.

Wesker trailed his hand down Chris's chest and over his stomach, licking along the other man's jaw and then pressing their lips together again. Chris's hands were on Wesker's shoulders, holding the other man against him as they kissed again. He felt Wesker's hand slide even further down and the blonde man gripped his length and he arched up into the touch.

"Tell me what you want, Chris."

"I... Wesker, fuck... please..."

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, Chris." Wesker said, giving him a firm stroke. "Tell me what you want."

"I want..."

"Come on, Chris. I want you to say it to me."

"Wesker, I want you to fuck me."

"Now say _please_."

If it was any other situation, Chris probably would've punched the blonde man for putting him through this, but by now he was getting desperate and he needed the other man. It had been too long... too long since he had been with anyone in this way. After S.T.A.R.S, there had never been anything proper... just a casual fuck every now and then, and up until now it always seemed that sex with Wesker was just another way for the blonde to gain the upper hand in a situation. Now it seemed as though Wesker was willing to let Chris equally participate, as though the power dynamic between them had... not shifted, but changed slightly.

Wesker bit down on Chris's bottom lip as he pulled away, and he met the other man's eyes, waiting for him to answer.

Chris looked up at Wesker, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time they had ever taken the chance to actually acknowledge who it was they were with. Usually – even back in S.T.A.R.S – they didn't look at each other when they were fucking. Chris would usually be on his front or bent over something, and Wesker would always be behind him.

"Please..." Chris whimpered, his grip tightening on Wesker's shoulders.

Wesker touched his fingertips to Chris's lips and the brunette instantly knew what he wanted. Chris opened his mouth and took in the digits, closing his eyes and demonstrating what Wesker already knew the other man could do with his tongue.

The blonde closed his eyes and allowed a low moan to slip out, pressing his fingers deeper into the brunette's mouth. Chris was making sure that Wesker's fingers were as slick as they could be, as he knew that this could be very uncomfortable for him otherwise. He was also watching Wesker's facial expression shifting as he curled his tongue around the digits, enjoying actually having a chance to see the pleasure reflected on the other man's face.

Wesker withdrew his fingers slowly and trailed them down Chris's chin, leaving a slight trail of saliva. He moved his hand down Chris's chest and shifted so that he was kneeling between the other man's thighs. He lifted Chris's hips and slowly inserted a digit into his entrance, watching the other man grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. Wesker leant down and placed a kiss to Chris's neck, biting down softly and licking the area to try and help the other man relax.

Chris held his breath when Wesker inserted a second digit and pressed back against Wesker, moaning when he hit the spot. Wesker inserted a third digit into the other man's entrance, making sure he would be properly stretched for him.

After the blonde had scissored and rubbed his inner walls, he then removed his fingers and sat back. "Lube me." Wesker said in a low tone, grabbing Chris's hair and pulling the man's upper body up and towards his shaft. He watched as the brunette immediately parted his lips and took his length back into his mouth, where he then bobbed his head and sucked, occasionally teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue.

When Wesker felt himself becoming too close he pulled away and scooted back down the bed, kneeling between the brunette's thighs again. He pushed Chris back down onto the mattress, smirking as he lined himself up with the other man's entrance.

He pushed in slowly, watching Chris flexing his hands and gripping the bedsheets tighter as he furrowed his brow. The blonde gave the other man a few moments to adjust, before noticing Chris's subtle nod and pulling out slowly before thrusting back in.

Chris gripped the bedsheets even tighter, groaning as Wesker hit the spot again and again. The blonde panted heavily as he plunged into the tight heat of the other man. He slowly began to pick up the pace, still showing Chris who was the dominant one, even though he had almost treated him as though he were an equal. The brunette was arching up off the bed and groaning loudly.

Wesker grabbed a fistful of Chris's hair and crushed his mouth against the other man's, kissing him sloppily as he continued to speed up, causing the bed to creak. Chris desperately wanted some friction against his own arousal, and was slightly surprised when Wesker's hand reached between them and began to pump his shaft in time with his thrusts.

"Fuck, W-Wesker..." Chris mumbled against the other man's lips. "Harder..."

Wesker did as the other man said and Chris was sure that the bed was close to breaking, along with himself. He was so close, and he could tell Wesker was to by the way that the other man was gripping his hips so hard that there would be bruises the shape of his hands for the next couple of days and the fact that he was muttering something incoherent to himself.

Chris released first with a loud moan, spilling over Wesker's hand, stomach and also his own chest. Wesker felt Chris's walls tighten and he climaxed with another thrust, grunting as he came. He pulled out and placed his hands on either side of Chris's head, breathing heavily and studying the other man's expression. Chris's cheeks were flushed and his hair was sweaty and stuck to his forehead.

The blonde shifted away from the brunette and collapsed next to Chris on the bed, not even bothering to pull the bedsheets up.

Chris smiled to himself and then rolled over so that his back was to the other man. He felt the mattress shift underneath him, and then Wesker was pressed against his back. Chris welcomed the warmth and pushed back against him, as he couldn't be bothered to untangle the bedsheets either. _The horrible thing he did was make me feel something for him again._

**A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!**

**The wonderful CarEKaos helped me to write the smut scene, and so I have to thank her for that, or this chapter probably would've taken me another week or so. It was going to be uploaded yesterday, but due to some computer problems it wasn't.**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. God, it's been so long but I've had so much going on. Yes, I have finished my exams now but all of the plot bunnies seemed to come out of their rabbit holes and I've had so much to write, and I'm also working at a nursery which is exhausting, so when I get home all I want to do is curl up somewhere and sleep.**

**I'm also sorry to say that the chapter after this will be the last, because that's how I've planned it out. Everyone whose read this and left comments is amazing. I can't believe it, but this is the penultimate chapter.**

**Summary:**** After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Fifteen**

When Chris woke up, Wesker was gone. The space next to him in the bed was empty and Wesker's sunglasses were gone from the bedside table. He cursed himself for being stupid and rolled out of the bed, grabbing some clothes from the wardrobe.

He looked out of the window and saw that the car was gone from the front of the mansion.

"He left me here." Chris said aloud, even though he knew that he was the only one in the mansion. "He used me and he left me here."

Chris headed down to the kitchen and saw that there was a used coffee mug on the table. He touched his hand to it, feeling some warmth lingering on the porcelain. Wesker obviously hadn't been gone too long.

The cell phone they had stolen was next to the coffee mug, and Chris sighed and picked it up, dialling a number he knew off by heart.

"Claire, it's Chris."

_"Chris? Oh God, I've been so worried about you!"_ Claire exclaimed. _"Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine." Chris lied, but he didn't think Claire would appreciate being told that Wesker had 'loved and left' him. "How are you?"

_"Stressed out."_ Claire said. _"It's really hard to work with the __bsaa__, Chris. How the hell did you manage it?"_

"The BSAA?" Chris asked in surprise.

_"Yeah, I went to them after your last phone call."_ Claire said. _"You... you are okay, aren't you?"_

"I'm fine."

_"Is he there?"_

Chris sighed. "No. Wesker's gone. I woke up this morning and I can't find him."

_"Where are you?"_ Claire asked. _"The BSAA are going to send a team to pick you up and search for Wesker."_

Chris's stomach churned at the thought of the BSAA finding Wesker, but it was no less than he deserved after everything he had done to the world, and to Chris personally. "I'm in a mansion in Ottawa, in Canada."

_"I do know where Ottawa is, Chris."_ Claire said, and Chris could tell by her tone that she was rolling her eyes.

"This mansion is an old Umbrella facility. I'm sure the BSAA can put a trace on the call and get a specific location."

_"Yeah, they say they've got your position."_ Claire said. _"I'm going to join the pick up team – just sit tight. We should be there in a couple of hours."_

"Alright. See you soon, Claire."

_"Stay safe."_

Chris ended the call and sighed, sitting down in the chair that looked as though Wesker had been sitting in it drinking his coffee. His gaze fell on the empty coffee mug again, and he realised how pathetic it was, sitting at the table moping about someone who didn't care about him – someone who had _never_ cared about him.

Chris sat in silence for a few moments until he heard a noise that sounded as though it came from the lobby area. He remembered what Wesker had said about lickers potentially wandering around the grounds and he stood up warily, picking up the coffee mug and somehow feeling less stupid about using that as a weapon than when he had a gun with no bullets.

He slowly approached the kitchen door, raising the mug above his head when the footsteps came closer. When the figure was about to walk into the kitchen, Chris smashed the mug over their head.

Then he realised it was Wesker.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" Chris said, stepping away from the blonde. "I thought –"

"You didn't think, did you?" Wesker snarled, kicking the smashed porcelain on the floor and... putting shopping bags on the table?

"You told me there could be lickers around here!" Chris protested.

"I don't think lickers use the front door!" Wesker scowled. "What good did you think a mug would do anyway?"

"I was improvising." Chris muttered. "Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Buying breakfast." Wesker scowled. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Oh." Chris said, watching as Wesker began to unpack the shopping. He didn't realise that the blonde man could be so... domestic. "Erm... thanks."

"If you look in the other bag there are bacon rolls." Wesker said, refilling the kettle.

Chris fished into the other bag and pulled out two bacon rolls, each wrapped in foil and still warm by the feel of the wrapper. "I thought you had left."

"What?"

"I... I thought you had left me. Here." Chris said. "What else was I supposed to think when I saw no sign of you and the car gone?"

"That I was getting breakfast?" Wesker offered, taking a bacon roll from Chris. "I do get hungry too."

Chris thought back to the diner they had stopped in, and how disgusted Wesker had been at the fast food. "Not as hungry as normal people."

"If you're referring to that diner, then I –" Wesker took off his sunglasses and peered at Chris. He knew the other man well enough to know what he was feeling, and Chris's expression was one of nervousness. "There's something wrong."

"There's nothing wrong." Chris said. "Why would anything be –" And then he remembered his phone call to Claire. The BSAA were coming to rescue him from the mansion, and they were coming to search for Wesker.

"Chris, I suggest you tell me what's wrong before I extract the information myself."

"Sounds painful."

"_Chris_ –"

Chris sighed and sat down on the table, taking a bite out of his bacon roll and gesturing for Wesker to take the seat opposite him. Wesker sat down cautiously, wondering if Chris was finally going to break on him and give him some long gushing speech about _feelings_, which would result in him knocking Chris out, shooting his hopes down or just leaving the mansion... or throwing Chris out. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at that moment.

"Do you promise to hear me out before you react?" Chris asked.

"I'm not going to promise you, but I'm going to try." Wesker answered, sitting rigidly in his chair.

"Well, I thought you were gone so –"

"Chris, I am not a child. I do not need a story." Wesker snapped. "Just tell me what you've done so I can yell at you and then we can move on."

"I called the BSAA." Chris blurted.

Wesker's eyes flickered, though he managed to keep most of his composure. "You did _what_?"

"I called the BSAA." Chris repeated. "I thought you were gone, Wesker. I didn't think you were ever going to come back so I called them... well, I called Claire to come and get me, but she was with the BSAA and now they're coming here –"

"Fucking Redfields." Wesker muttered. "You always have to ruin everything, don't you?"

"I thought you had left me, Wesker." Chris said, slightly bitter. "What was I supposed to do? Mope around the mansion all day? I just wanted to go home. I wanted to tell my sister that I was okay and I wanted to go home and get my life back – was that too much to want?"

Wesker stared down at the floor. "No – it's not too much to want. I would do anything to get my life back, Chris. You're lucky that yours is still intact."

They sat in silence, both of them eating their bacon rolls and pondering about what was going to happen next. If Chris was honest with himself, he didn't want to hand Wesker over to the BSAA. His stomach churned at the very thought of it.

"What are you going to do?" Chris asked.

"What do you want me to do?" Wesker retorted. "Do you want to hand me over to the BSAA?"

This was something Chris wasn't expecting. He had never expected Wesker to hand his life over to him like that, because Wesker always won. Wesker was always so careful and never left anything to chance, not even the smallest aspect of a plan.

"If I said yes, would you turn yourself in?" Chris asked quietly. "If I wanted you to hand yourself over to the BSAA, would you do it?"

"Do you think I would?" Wesker answered.

"I want to know what you think, Wesker." Chris sighed, standing up. "I want to know whether I have to call my sister and tell her that you came back so the team she's with need to be extra prepared, or whether I have to pretend I don't know where you are."

Wesker looked up and met Chris's eyes through the dark glass of his sunglasses. "You would lie to the BSAA and your sister for me?"

"I might." Chris said. "Depending on what you say."

"I asked you if you wanted me to turn myself in, Chris." Wesker said, his eyes searching Chris's. "I'm waiting for you to make your decision."

Chris shook his head and walked over to the sink, leaning on the counter. "This is a trick."

"Why do you think that?"

Chris screwed up the foil from his bacon roll and squeezed it in his hand, feeling the wrapping compacting. "You always have a plan – you're Albert Wesker. You don't ever give up and you sure as hell wouldn't leave something like this to chance. You're up to something."

"There's nothing this time, Chris." Wesker said quietly, walking over to where the other man was standing at the counter. He stood beside him, watching Chris's facial expressions shift as he tried to interpret the situation.

"No." Chris said, turning to face Wesker. "There's always _something_."

Wesker took off his sunglasses and slipped them into his jacket pocket. "There isn't anything this time, Chris. It's over. You told me yourself that I had nothing – I told you that there was no plan this time. I still don't have a plan now, Chris. If I do decide to run from the BSAA where am I going to go? They won't stop chasing me."

"So you're just going to let them take you?" Chris asked, grabbing the front of Wesker's shirt.

"You almost sound as though you want me to run."

"You can do whatever you want." Chris said.

"Are you going to try and stop me if I run?" Wesker asked. "Or are you going to come after me? Are you going to release the hounds and send the BSAA after me?"

"It depends if you are just going to run." Chris answered. "And whether you're going to come back or not."

"Chris, I always come back." Wesker smirked. "You should've learnt that by now."

"So I'll see you again?"

"Most definitely." Wesker said. "Stay out of trouble, Chris."

"You're the one who always gets me into trouble." Chris rolled his eyes, though he was grinning. He finally loosened his grip on the front of Wesker's shirt, even though the only thing he wanted at that moment was for Wesker to stay with him. "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"I always am." Wesker smirked. "I'm careful enough to make sure you won't follow me."

Chris was about to ask what the other man meant, when Wesker grabbed a coffee mug and smashed it over his head, knocking him out.

**A/N: Ta dah! Another chapter done. The next chapter is going to be the last, and it will probably be up after I come back from holiday. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long!**

**Any comments or feedback are appreciated.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: GUYS. GUYS YOU ARE ALL AMAZING ;_;****Thank you so much for all of the wonderful praise in reviews! (well, those of you who were writing praise).****Thank you for being so patient and waiting for me to update... this last chapter has been a nightmare to write, so that's why it's taken so long for me to get written.****This is the last chapter and I really hope that you all like the ending.**

**Summary:****After Resident Evil 5. Chris tries to return to normality whilst Wesker tries to regain his humanity. Wesker/Chris slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer:****I do not own Resident Evil. I only own BSAA Agent Chapman****and Penny the waitress.**

**Night of the Hunter**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Look, I've told you everything I know." Chris scowled up at Agent Chapman, who was sitting at her desk typing up some important files. "Why can't I go?"

"Mr. Redfield, your sister is currently in a meeting." Agent Chapman said. "You will be able to leave once she has joined you."

"Why can't I go?" Chris repeated.

"The meeting is about you, Mr. Redfield." Agent Chapman said. "I'm sure you would like to hear what your sister has to say when she comes out of the meeting."

Chris folded his arms and sighed, slouching in his chair. He had been relentlessly questioned by the BSAA about the events he had just been through and whether he had any idea of where Wesker was going, and right at that moment all he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

The moment the interview room door opened and Claire walked out, Chris jumped up ready to go. All he wanted was a hot meal, a shower and his bed.

"I have some good news." Claire smiled. "The BSAA are going to give you your job back."

"What?" Chris blinked.

"I spoke to them and told them about your situation and they're willing to give you your job back." Claire explained. "You're one of the best they ever had, Chris. It's understandable that they would want you to work for them again."

"But... I don't want to." Chris said.

Both Claire and Agent Chapman looked at him as though he was crazy.

"What?" Chris asked. "I don't have to take it, do I?"

Agent Chapman shook her head and looked at Claire.

"Chris –" Claire started to say, taking a step towards her brother with her hand outstretched. She placed it on her brother's shoulder and looked up at him, wondering why he was turning down a second chance at the life he had before. "– Maybe you should think about this."

"I have." Chris insisted, taking a step away from Claire. "I don't want another job with the BSAA. Wesker's gone – okay, so he's probably still out there _somewhere_ – but you didn't see him, Claire. He has nothing left, and he knows that he has to move on with his life." Chris sighed. "I just want to try and have a normal life."

"Maybe you just need some time to think about it." Claire said. "I mean, you've been through a lot –"

"I _have_ thought about it, Claire." Chris insisted. "I don't want to work for the BSAA anymore. I want to actually have a life."

"Mr. Redfield –"

"No, it's true!" Chris snapped – literary snapped. It wasn't just the tone of his voice. It was all of the pent up emotion and the stress of everything that had happened to him finally finding its way to the surface. "They have never done anything for me! I worked my ass off for years, and all I got from it was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a fucking lunatic who won't ever leave me alone! He kidnapped me from my own fucking home and took me all the way to fucking Canada because he had some weird revenge plan – but, oh wait, he didn't even _have_ a plan. All he wanted to do was scare the shit out of me, because I had no idea what he wanted to do to me. I just –" He balled his hands into fists to stop himself punching something – _anything_.

Claire and Agent Chapman stared at him, stunned.

"I... I need to go home." Chris said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, I just... I need to go home."

"Do you... do you want me to come with you?" Claire asked.

"No... I just... just give me some time, okay?" Chris asked, rubbing his face with his hands. "I need to sort this out. Just... I'll call you tomorrow."

xXx

Chris walked into the diner and sat down as close to the door as he could – that way he could leave if he felt as though another breakdown was coming on. People in the diner were already looking at him, and he wondered whether he should've gone straight home.

"Hi! I'm Penny and I'll be your –" The waitress's grin faltered. "– Waitress tonight."

"Penny! Hey." Chris said, scratching the back of his head. "We met last time I came in here – Chris Redfield... remember?"

"You're... erm... kind of hard to forget." Penny said, looking everywhere except at Chris.

"Oh, yeah..." Chris said, remembering when he had taken Penny back to his apartment and Wesker had been there waiting for him. "I sorted all of that out, by the way."

"Great." Penny smiled at him, and Chris could tell that she really didn't want to be the one serving him. "Can I get you anything?"

"A beer would be nice." Chris said. "And maybe we could talk?"

Penny scribbled something down on the pad she carried with her and shook her head, smiling as though he was stupid. "I don't think we have much to talk about, Chris."

"Oh, alright." Chris said, knowing that this was a brush off – clearly first impressions meant a lot to Penny, and he supposed that she was right to not want anything to do with him after their first meeting, and the fact that he had thrown her out of his apartment. "I'm sorry, if that counts for anything."

"Chris..." Penny hesitated. "You're probably a nice guy and everything, but I just... after you threw me out of your apartment I don't exactly feel like I really want to go out on a date with you or anything. I mean, I'm sure you had a good reason to, but –"

"It's fine." Chris said.

"Really?" Penny asked.

"Yes." Chris answered. "Look, I'm sure I wouldn't want to spend time with me either. I know it wasn't exactly an ideal first meeting, but nothing about my life is ideal. I thought I'd left all of the shit I've been through behind but I hadn't. I just –" Chris balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He was determined not to break down in the middle of the diner with loads of people watching. "– I don't know. I think I'm lost."

He was startled for a moment when something touched his hand, and he realised that Penny had placed her own over his, and was smiling at him sympathetically.

"The beer's on the house, okay?" Penny said. "And it'll get better – trust me."

"You get a lot like me in here?" Chris asked, smiling at her.

"They come and go." Penny said. "I'll just go and grab your beer, and then I'll be back to order your food, okay?"

xXx

Chris went home feeling slightly happier than when he had left the BSAA. In the end, he had stayed at the diner until closing time and spoken to Penny. He had found out that she had started seeing someone in the short time that he had been away for, and that her boyfriend might be able to set him up with some work if he was having problems finding a job.

He opened the door to the apartment and flicked on the lights, before yelling and reaching for a gun that he no longer had.

"You don't have any manners at all, do you?" Wesker sighed. "At least you didn't have a coffee mug with you this time..."

"Wesker – what the fuck are you doing here?" Chris demanded, leaning against the wall and trying to catch his breath.

"Like I said – you don't have any manners at all." Wesker rolled his eyes – huh. That was strange. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses.

"You're the one who broke into my apartment!"

"You're the one who wasn't careful enough with his keys – it was rather easy to steal yours and get a duplicate cut."

"When did you do that?"

"Why would I tell you?" Wesker asked. "That defeats the purpose of being subtle."

"But you just told me that you have a replica key to my apartment – which is kinda creepy, by the way." Chris said, taking off his coat and throwing it over the back of the sofa. He sat down next to Wesker on the couch, though as far away as possible. "Why are you here?"

"I have nowhere else to go."

"What, don't you have any more mansions?" Chris asked. "Can't you run off to one of them?"

"None of those would be safe now, Chris." Wesker said, rolling his eyes again. "The BSAA would have discovered the locations of all of them by searching the Ottawa mansion that I took you to."

"So you're homeless?" Chris asked. "Excuse me a moment – I need to celebrate having a better quality of life than you at the – hmph!" The last thing Chris was expecting was for Wesker to lean over and grip his hair before pressing a firm kiss against his lips.

Wesker pulled away and smirked slightly at the other man. "Speechless?"

Chris nodded.

"I thought that may be the case." Wesker said and stood up. "Anyway, if you can find some manners for a few moments, I would like you to show me around your inadequate apartment, as it seems I may be staying here for a while."

xXx

"You _ripped_ my shirt!" Chris protested.

"You can buy another one, or sew it up." Wesker said, pushing Chris backwards onto the bed and undoing his own shirt. "Besides, I didn't like it."

Chris rolled his eyes, but saw no point in arguing with the other man. In fact, he was glad that Wesker was back. When the other man had left him at the mansion, Chris had thought that it would be the last time he saw Wesker, and he had been... disappointed. He had been trying to convince himself that he was better off without Wesker in his life as he would finally be able to have some semblance of normality, but it hadn't worked.

Wesker tossed his shirt away and crawled on top of Chris, smirking down at him. Chris smiled back up at Wesker and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him off of him. He climbed on top of Wesker and straddled hips, then mimicked his smirk from before.

"You're not normally on your back, are you?" Chris asked.

Wesker glared up at him and punched him in the stomach. Chris wheezed, and Wesker flipped them both so that Chris was now the one on his back again. "No, Chris. I'm afraid you're the one who's always on your back."

"Son of a bitch." Chris muttered, as Wesker sucked on the skin of his neck, pulling away to examine the angry, red mark.

"Watch your mouth, Chris." Wesker scowled. "We both know who's in charge here."

Chris rolled his eyes and dug his fingertips into Wesker's shoulder blades when the other man bit down a tad painfully on his neck, where he had just previously marked him.

Chris arched his hips up off the bed and grinded against Wesker, hearing a soft gasp escape the other man's lips. Wesker grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him in for a messy kiss, with too much tongue and teeth. His other arm was braced beside Chris's head, and Chris could feel him _trembling_ with the effort of holding himself up. Chris slid a hand between their bodies and palmed Wesker through his trousers, earning a low noise from the blonde.

"We should... we should—fuck…" Chris groaned as he slid his hand down his pants and rubbed himself a few times. "Stuff... bedside cabinet."

Wesker stood up and undid his trousers, dropping them to the floor. He also pushed his underwear down, and then climbed back onto the bed, rummaging through the drawer. Chris kicked his jeans and boxers off and laid out on the bed, watching as Wesker began to slick up his fingers. He watched the other man's face as he inserted the first digit into him, watching Wesker's red eyes roam over his body.

"Feels weird, doing it like this." Chris grunted, shifting his hips to try and get into a more comfortable position. _But so much better than fucking spit._

Wesker ignored him and inserted a second finger, scissoring them and making Chris wince at the burning sensation of the stretch. Chris gripped the bedsheets and twisted them around his fingers, wishing Wesker would hurry up. The blonde man inserted a third finger and curled his fingers round, making Chris moan when Wesker hit that sweet spot inside of him.

"Wesker, come on..." Chris said, pushing himself back onto Wesker's fingers.

"Patience, Chris. Patience." Wesker said calmly, applying more lube to his hand and slicking himself up. "The more you demand, the less likely I am to do it."

Chris glowered at him as he lined himself up with his entrance and pushed in slowly, giving Chris time to adjust. He gripped the bedsheets tighter and arched up off the bed, pushing himself back against Wesker. The blonde man took it as a hint to move, and began to thrust slowly into the other man.

"Wesker..." Chris hissed, throwing his head back.

The blonde man braced himself on his arms and thrusted harder into Chris, muttering his name under his breath. Chris reached up and entangled his fingers in Wesker's blonde hair, amazed at how silky smooth it was, and pressed his lips to the other man's as he rocked against him. Wesker nipped at Chris's bottom lip and reached between their bodies to stroke Chris's arousal in time with his thrusts, determined to bring him to his climax at the same time.

"Don't... don't ever... ever leave me again..." Chris panted into Wesker's mouth.

Wesker slammed into Chris one more time before climaxing, and Chris came a few moments later with a pleasured noise, staining his stomach as the unrestrained groan Wesker let out sent him over the edge.

They collapsed on top of each other in a sweaty, sticky mess. Wesker pulled out of his body as he had started to soften inside of him, before laying down beside Chris and studying his facial expression, trying to work out how he would be one step ahead in this situation. He flinched when Chris reached across and entwined their fingers, already half-asleep.

"You're not going to disappear on me again, are you?" He murmured.

"Not yet." Wesker said, a faint smirk on his lips. "Perhaps for bacon rolls and coffee in the morning, as long as you don't hit me with a mug again."

"Leave a note this time." Chris slurred, his eyes half closed.

"You don't have to worry about lickers here." Wesker rolled his eyes.

"I always worry about..." Chris's sentence ended with snores, and Wesker closed his eyes, settling down next to him in the bed.

Maybe he would leave again one day, but not just yet – not for a while.

**A/N: That's it! The very last chapter of Night of the Hunter. Thank you so much EVERYONE who read and left nice comments and added the story to your favourites. I'm so glad you enjoyed reading this story, as I have enjoyed writing it. I can't believe it's finally over****– it wouldn't be finished if not for your kind feedback, as I would never have had the motivation to finish it.**

**I Caught Myself :D**


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